THE   OUTLAWS 


A  STORY  OF  THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  WEST 


BY 
LE    ROY  ARMSTRONG 


atjppleton   ana   Company 
1902 


w 


COPYRIGHT,  1902 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


Published  April,  1902 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.      THE   "RAISING" 1 

II.    THE  CLEARING 18 

III.  THE  COLTS 33 

IV.  TRIUMPHANT  IN  TOWN 54 

V.    ACCUSED 61 

VI.  AT  THE  STILE.       .       .       .       .       .       .75 

VII.    THE  DOOR  OF  DESTINY 90 

VIII.  A  DINNER  OF  DREAMS                          *       .      98 

IX.    JARED  COMES  HOME 110 

X.  STOCKING'S  TIMELY  STRATEGY       .       .        .115 

XL    JARED'S  SADDLE  FOUND 180 

XII.  DAN  COMES  TO  COMMAND       ....    156 

XIII.  TRICKING  THE  POSSE 169 

XIV.  STOCKING  AND  HALEY     .       .       .       .       .174 
XV.  DAN'S  "  BAD  DREAM  "    .        .       .       .        .186 

XVI.    SELIM  WINS  A  RACE 201 

XVII.  "  I  WILL  GET  PRUDY     .       .       .       .        .212 

XVIII.  LITTLE  PRUDY'S  NEW  HOME  .        .        .       .221 

XIX.  THE  SHERIFF  CAPTURED        .        .        .        .244 

XX.  THE  FIRST  SHADOW       .       .        .        .       .271 

XXI.  THE  CHOLERA!       .        .       .        .        .        .292 

XXII.  THE  BLACKNESS  OF  DARKNESS       .        .        .    300 

XXIII.  THE  RETURN  OF  JARED 304 

XXIV.  THE  CANAL  COMPLETED 313 

XXV.    JARED  ACQUITTED 316 

XXVI.    CONCLUSION 320 

v 


M667749 


THE   OUTLAWS 


CHAPTER   I 
THE  "RAISING" 

"  JARED  CARUTH,  ain't  you  going  to  the 
raisin'  1 "  asked  Absalom  Bank,  as  he  and 
his  strapping  son  Dan  paused  before  the 
cabin  of  the  neighborhood  trapper,  fiddler, 
and  ne'er-do-well. 

"I  clean  forgot,"  cried  Jared.  "It 
wouldn't  be  neighborly  to  stay  away  from 
Seth  Eeed's  house-raisin',  even  if  he  is  an 
old  bachelor.  Yes,  I'm  going.  Prudence, 
is  this  enough  wood  to  last  you? " 

He  had  hurriedly  gathered  up  the  fuel, 
reduced  to  the  required  length  for  the  fire- 
place, and  stamped  with  an  amusing,  nerv- 
ous haste  to  the  door. 
1 


The  Outlaws 

The  girl  met  Mm,  bowed  smiling  to  the 
two  men  in  the  road,  and  accepted  without 
complaint  the  slender  provision. 

He  carried  his  burden  so  as  to  force  her 
back  into  the  house,  glancing  over  his 
shoulder  at  Dan  Rank,  and  swinging  the 
door  shut  with  his  heel.  Then  he  was  all 
smiles  for  the  girl. 

"  You  stay  at  home,  Prudy,"  he  said  in 
the  gentlest  of  tones.  "  You  needn't  get 
dinner  for  me.  I'll  be  back  along  in  the 
evening.  Are  you  comfortable  now,  Pru- 
dy? And  you  needn't  pay  any  attention  to 
Dan  Eank.  He's —  He  don't  use  me  right. 
Now,  is  there  anything  more  that  you 
need!" 

"  Nothing.    Good-by,  father." 

And  she  was  left  alone.  She  knew  if 
the  wood  were  exhausted,  she  could  find 
more  in  the  forest ;  and  if  need  be,  she  could 
do  as  she  had  done  on  other  occasions, 
slight  as  she  was — chop  for  herself. 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  forgot  that  rais- 
in'," said  Jared  volubly,  as  he  joined  his 
2 


The  "Raising 


friends.  He  did  not  bring  an  ax,  as  they 
had  done. 

"  No,  you  generally  go,"  said  the  elder 
Bank. 

"I've  never  missed  one  yet,"  chir- 
ruped the  fiddler.  "I  never  missed  a 
raisin',  nor  rolled  a  log,"  and  he  laughed 
lightly. 

Little  Bill  Anderson  and  Abe  Rhine- 
hart  joined  them  at  the  corner.  The  for- 
mer was  local  preacher,  singing-master, 
and  occasionally  auctioneer.  Rhinehart's 
ax  was  on  his  shoulder,  a  bit  of  leather 
about  the  blade,  to  keep  it  bright.  He  was 
a  famous  chopper,  and  cared  for  his 
tools. 

"Dan  Bank,"  said  he,  "what  are  you 
goin'  to  this  raisin'  for  !  Young  fellow  like 
you — it  looks  suspicious." 

"  Dan's  goin'  for  the  cider."  Jared 
Caruth  flung  the  words  back  over  his  shoul- 
der. He  was  walking  rapidly  along  at  the 
side  of  the  elder  Bank. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  retorted  little  Bill 
3 


The  Outlaws 

Anderson  banteringly.  "  Dan  will  be  bid- 
ding us  to  his  house-raising  one  of  these 
days.  I  saw  him  shining  around  Prudence 
Caruth  the  other  night  at  the  spelling 
school." 

He  laughed  mischievously.  Dan  smiled, 
and  glanced  at  the  father  of  Prudence, 
plodding  ahead  of  him.  But  the  elder  man 
pretended  not  to  have  heard. 

"  When  you  going  to  have  a  log-rolling, 
Anderson!  "  asked  Absalom  Kank,  prob- 
ably with  the  purpose  of  diverting  attack 
from  his  son. 

"  Oh,  the  old  house  is  good  enough  for 
me,"  replied  the  preacher.  "Bachelors 
don't  need  palaces." 

"  Why,  Seth  Reed  is  a  bachelor,"  cried 
Caruth,  nervously  protesting  against  ex- 
clusion from  conversation. 

"  Yes,  and  what  he  wants  with  this  new 
house  is  more  than  I  can  see.  They'll  joke 
him  to-day  about  building  a  cage  before  he 
gets  a  bird  to  put  in  it." 

"They   won't   joke    Seth   Eeed   very 


The  "  Raising 


much,"  said  young  Dan  Rank.  "  He'll  take 
them  down." 

"If  I  felt  as  good  as  I  did  ten  years 
ago,"  responded  Abe,  "  lie  wouldn't  take 
me  down.  I  used  to  rastle  them  all. 
Didn't  I,  Bank? " 

"You  used  to  be  the  best,  Abe,"  cor- 
roborated the  farmer. 

"  And  I  ain't  clean  over  it  yet.  I've  seen 
the  time  when  I  could  throw  a  man  like 
Seth  Reed  every  hour  all  day,  and  never 
feel  it." 

"Can't  any  of  them  do  it  now?"  re- 
joined Jared,  hopeful  of  contradiction. 

They  went  on  across  the  corduroys — a 
roadway  made  by  laying  a  succession  of 
logs  side  by  side  on  a  marshy  soil.  It  was 
easy  enough  passage  for  footmen,  but  full 
of  jolts  for  wheels. 

Just  beyond  was  the  higher  ground, 
where  Seth  Reed  had  "  made  a  farm."  He 
had  chosen  a  bit  of  wooded  land  for  the 
site  of  his  new  house;  and  the  trees  that 

had  sheltered  it  were  now  lying  prone  on 
5 


The  Outlaws 

the  land  that  had  produced  them,  destined 
to  be  timbers  that  would  make  a  differ- 
ent shelter. 

A  dozen  neighbors,  perhaps,  were  pres- 
ent. A  house-raising  was  a  social  event 
wholly  lost  to  later  generations. 

"Who  done  your  hewing,  Seth?  "  de- 
manded Jared  Caruth — slender,  nervous, 
voluble,  and  inquisitive. 

"  I  did — every  log." 

"It'll  make  a  fine,  even  floor." 

"  Then  let's  get  ready  to  lay  it.  Come 
on,  men.  Who'll  cut  the  ground?  " 

"  Absalom  Rank,"  cried  Abe  Rhinehart. 
"  He's  the  oldest  man." 

"Judge  Evans  ought  to  do  it,"  pro- 
tested Rank. 

"  But  the  judge  ain't  here.    Go  on." 

So  the  farmer  took  the  spade,  found  the 
spot  which  Seth  Reed  had  selected,  and  dug 
away  the  soil  for  the  planting  of  the  cor- 
ner-stone. They  all  stood  silent  while  he 
worked,  for  the  ceremony  impressed  them. 

The  great  stone  was  rolled  into  its  place, 
6 


"The  Raising' 

was  jostled  and  turned,  and  finally  fixed 
immovable. 

The  domicile  was  begun. 

"Now,  Bill  Anderson,  you  ask  the 
blessing,"  said  the  proprietor. 

And  the  little  preacher  stepped  from 
the  group  that  had  been  watching,  and  took 
off  his  cap.  He  stood  by  the  stone,  his  eyes 
closed,  trying  to  assume  in  the  unconven- 
tional environment  the  solemn  bearing  of 
the  Sunday  service. 

"  Our  Father  in  heaven,"  he  said,  "  we 
are  beginning  to  build  a  house.  We  don't 
know  who  will  live  here."  That  provoked 
a  grin  from  his  earthly  auditors,  and  he 
seemed  to  realize  as  the  words  were  spoken 
the  construction  they  might  receive.  But 
he  extricated  himself  cleverly.  "  But  thou 
knowest,  Lord."  And  the  faces  were  se- 
rious again.  "  Bless  this  foundation-stone. 
Bless  the  walls.  Make  love  and  happiness 
to  come  and  live  here.  May  the  people 
who  come  here  to  live  be  thy  children ;  and 
as  the  roof  shelters  them  from  the  rain  and 
7 


The  Outlaws 

the  snow,  may  thy  strong  arm  shelter  them 
from  the  tempest  of  death.  Save  them 
from  the  unquenchable  fires  of  destruction. 
And  bring  us  all  to  the  hearthstone  of  the 
saved  in  thy  kingdom.  Amen." 

"  Pretty  prayer,"  said  the  impression- 
able Jared ;  and  the  eyes  that  greeted  Bill 
Anderson,  local  preacher,  bore  testimony 
to  his  possession  of  "  the  gift." 

But  the  spell  of  solemnity  was  gone  in 
a  moment.  The  men  hurried  to  fix  the 
stones  at  the  three  remaining  corners,  to 
roll  up  the  largest  logs  for  the  sills  and  the 
sleepers,  to  lay  the  floor  of  other  logs 
hewed  flat  on  the  upper  surface,  and  scored 
away  along  the  sides  until  they  joined 
neatly. 

And  then  the  work  of  the  day  began — 
the  placing  of  timbers  one  upon  another 
for  the  walls ;  the  laying  of  skids,  or  strong 
poles,  slanted,  with  one  end  on  the  ground, 
the  other  on  the  topmost  log  of  the  rising 
wall — strong  poles  from  which  the  bark 

was  stripped,  and  up  which  the  timbers 

8 


The  "Raising" 

were  hustled  with  much  jubilation,  with 
rivalry  of  strength  and  cleverness. 

Jared  Caruth,  self-appointed,  uncon- 
tested,  became  prompter  in  the  drama  they 
were  unconsciously  playing.  And  when  he 
called  out,  "He-o!"  they  grasped  their 
levers,  or  bent  in  readiness  for  the  cue. 
And  then,  at  his  explosive  "He!"  the 
united  strength  of  many  men  was  ex- 
erted. 

"  He-o-he ! "  and  the  log  shot  up  half  a 
dozen  feet  on  the  skids.  "  He-o-he !  "  again, 
the  last  short  and  sharp,  and  Abe  Rhine- 
hart,  corner  man,  with  a  partner  at  the  op- 
posite end,  received  the  logs,  and,  clinging 
uncomfortably,  chopped  the  "  saddles," 
and  fitted  the  timbers  at  the  angles. 

There  had  been  something  of  an  archi- 
tect's calculation  in  preparing  the  material ; 
for  doors  and  windows  appeared  as  the 
framework  rose. 

The  men  were  hot  and  tired  at  noon,  but 
jubilant  with  the  tonic  of  rare  association, 

of  bodily  exercise,  and  maybe  with  the 
9 


The  Outlaws 

blessing  of  helping  to  rear  one  more  home 
in  the  land  of  the  living. 

"  It's  time  for  dinner,"  cried  Seth  Heed. 
"  I  hear  sleigh-bells.  Now  we  can  eat." 

Seth  heard  the  bells;  but  both  he  and 
his  friends  quickly  heard  an  even  more 
musical  note — the  voices  and  laughter  of 
women.  Judge  Evans's  hired  man,  Phil 
Whitesell,  rueful  of  countenance,  speaking 
always  with  bated  breath,  deeply  and  dark- 
ly mysterious,  drove  the  matched  four- 
year-olds,  bringing  the  low  bob-sleds  on  the 
thin,  late  snow,  freighted  with  dinner  and 
the  daughters  of  men. 

There  was  a  great  fire  builded  of  chips 
and  fed  with  the  hewings  of  timbers.  It 
had  roared  unnoted  all  morning,  but  it  was 
the  center  about  which  they  gathered  now. 

Jane  Evans,  daughter  of  the  neighbor- 
hood magnate ;  the  Widow  Bacon,  broad  of 
body,  and  justly  important  because  she  had 
paid  off  the  mortgage  which  was  her  chief 
inheritance,  and  had  saved  the  farm;  and 

the  two  grown  daughters  of  Absalom  Rank, 
10 


The  "Raising" 

ruddy  and  healthy,  and  helpful  in  the  pre- 
paring of  feasts — these  were  the  passen- 
gers of  Phil  Whitesell's  bringing. 

"  Is  it  dinner-time  f  "  exclaimed  Jared 
Caruth,  in  a  tone  of  simulated  surprise. 
"  I  wouldn't  have  thought  the  sun  was  over 
two  hours  high." 

"  Jared,  you  old  sham,  come  on  to  din- 
ner," called  Bhinehart.  "  I'll  be  bound  you 
haven't  touched  a  handspike  to-day." 

"I  did,"  retorted  the  fiddler.  "You 
dropped  one  on  my  foot,  and  I  had  to  touch 
it.  What's  this?" 

"  That's  a  jug,  Jared.  Try  what's  in 
it." 

Seth  Beed  removed  the  cob  stopper, 
and  tendered  the  earthenware  vessel.  Ja- 
red took  off  his  hat,  caught  the  jug  by  the 
handle,  and  swung  it  to  the  hollow  of  his 
elbow,  then  elevated  his  bended  arm  till  his 
lips  and  the  lips  of  the  jug  were  together. 

"  Ah-h,"  he  breathed  as  he  set  it  down, 
"  if  I  had  that  all  the  morning,  I  could  have 

rolled  more  logs  than  anybody." 
2  11 


The  Outlaws 

Willing  hands  lifted  down  the  baskets 
of  food.  The  women  became  hostesses, 
and  distributed  the  dinner.  They  gave 
choice  bits  to  Abe  Ehinehart  and  the  men 
who  had  bestridden  the  corners.  They  be- 
rated old  Jared  for  ordering  Prudence 
to  stay  at  home ;  and  they  mingled  laugh- 
ter and  good  cheer  with  the  primitive 
dining. 

Rough  sports  attended  these  raisings, 
and  there  was  scuffling  continually.  Stand- 
ing about  as  they  ate,  each  man  watched 
warily,  or  some  passing  neighbor  would 
trip  him  from  behind.  Their  spirits  rose 
as  they  finished  the  repast.  They  had 
worked  famously,  and  the  walls  lacked  but 
the  "  gable-enders  "  and  the  roof-poles. 

The  jostling  and  scuffling  led  to  sharper 
rivalries,  to  the  verge  of  matching  here  and 
there,  and  then  to  the  great  event  of  the 
day. 

"Who'll  rastle  on  the  new  floor?" 

Jared  Caruth  still  held  the  mastey-of- 

ceremonies'  place. 

12 


The  "Raising 


"  If  I  was  ten  years  younger — "  began 
Abe  Rhinehart. 

"  Let  Phil  Whitesell  and  Bill  Anderson 
get  at  it." 

But  there  was  avoidance  of  formal 
trial. 

Dan  Eank  watched  them,  alert  for  at- 
tack from  behind,  eager  for  the  sight  of 
men  matched. 

They  had  all  moved  to  the  interior  of 
the  house,  women  and  men  treading  the 
new  floor  with  a  sense  of  testing  its  solid- 
ity. Each  man  was  nervously  urgent  for 
others  to  make  challenge;  each  shy  of 
assuming.  For  these  conflicts  were  no- 
table feats ;  and  he  who  was  thrown  on  that 
new  floor,  and  he  who  threw  him,  would 
be  remembered  till  the  walls  should 
fall. 

"Til  rastle  any  one  of  you,"  said  Seth 
Eeed  presently. 

He  would  have  issued  his  challenge  ear- 
lier, but  for  a  host's  considerateness.  Of 

course  he  was  champion. 
13 


The  Outlaws 

"  That  wouldn't  be  fair,"  protested  Bill 
Anderson.  "  You  know  you  can  throw  any 
of  us." 

"  I'll  rastle  any  two,  barring  Abe  Rhine- 
hart,"  for  the  prowess  of  the  veteran  was 
remembered. 

"  I  believe  Whitesell  and  Dan  Eank  can 
tackle  you,"  cried  Jared. 

He  rather  hoped  he  might  see  this 
strapping  young  fellow  discredited. 

Phil  made  no  objection. 

"  Dan,  will  you  and  Phil  try  him?  " 

"  I'll  try  him  alone,"  said  Dan. 

That  startled  them.  The  men  shouted. 
The  women  were  silent,  excited,  engrossed. 
The  young  fellow,  man-grown,  yet  junior 
to  his  companions  of  the  day,  had  achieved 
no  great  fame  as  a  wrestler;  but  he  was 
strong  and  likely.  He  had  borne  himself 
the  equal  of  any  in  the  tests  of  log-rolling 
all  the  morning,  and  they  knew  with  a 
sportsman's  instinct  that  it  would  be  a 
match  worth  witnessing,  however  it  might 

end. 

14 


The  "Raising 


"You'll  rastle  me  alone,  Dan?"  asked 
Seth  Beed. 

"  Yes,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  Well,  get  ready." 

Space  was  surrendered  to  them.  A  few 
backed  into  the  corners.  Some  crowded 
at  the  doors  and  windows,  sharing  vantage- 
points  in  rough  human  equality  with  the 
women.  Jared  ran  nimbly  up  a  ladder,  and 
looked  down  from  the  topmost  log,  com- 
manding the  whole  arena. 

"Side  holts?"  asked  Seth. 

"  Side  holts,"  was  the  reply. 

They  grappled  in  what  had  grown  to  be 
known  in  more  formal  meetings,  with  slight 
variations,  as  the  Greco-Boman  style. 
They  bent  to  the  struggle.  They  were  not 
so  unevenly  matched.  Beed  was  the  taller 
and  heavier,  but  the  boy  was  quick  of  foot, 
and  fresh  from  the  rough  conflicts  with 
schoolmate  and  rival.  It  was  side  touching 
side.  It  was  knee  touching  knee  in  the 
nervous  searching  for  an  advantage,  either 

before  or  behind.  Eeed  wrestled  lower,  and 
15 


The  Outlaws 

finally,  after  a  season  of  mighty  but  futile 
swinging  of  the  contestants  here  and  there, 
after  an  interval  of  tense  watching  by  ex- 
cited spectators,  he  caught  his  chance, 
thrust  his  knee  to  the  rear  of  his  opponent's 
leg,  loosing  for  the  fall  that  should  bring 
him  whirling  down. 

But  Dan  knew  that  trick  very  well ;  and 
the  instant  he  felt  Seth  was  committed  to 
the  break  at  the  knee,  he  slipped  far  for- 
ward and  met  the  backward  haul  with  a 
forward  heave — his  hip  the  fulcrum,  his 
body  the  lever.  And  the  owner  of  the 
house  fell  on  his  excellent  floor,  the  first 
man  vanquished  there. 

The  crowd  cheered  wildly,  impar- 
tially. The  applause  would  have  been 
as  resounding  if  the  other  man,  having 
fought  a  good  fight,  had  lost  in  a  close 
encounter. 

Yet  there  was  a  certain  zest  in  the  re- 
flection that  the  master  was  mastered  at  his 
own  house-raising. 

"  Try  one  rough-and-tumble,"  suggest- 
16 


The  "Raising 


ed  Reed,  panting,  but  not  wholly  discom- 
fited. 

"All  right." 

It  was  the  catch-as-catch-can,  which 
later  gladiators  developed — then  disgraced 
with  sham  trials  in  a  splendid  sport. 

But  it  ended  as  before — only  that  the 
two  went  down  together,  and  Dan  Bank's 
body,  descending  with  momentum  on  that 
of  his  rival,  drove  the  breath  from  the 
larger  man,  so  that  the  slighter  rose  un- 
challenged, and  "  the  champion." 

Yet  he  was  a  generous  victor,  and  he 
lifted  the  vanquished,  helping  the  minister- 
ing women ;  and  after  that  he  led  every  one 
in  the  finishing  work. 

And  when  the  ridge-pole  was  in  place, 
he  walked  home  with  his  father — with  his 
father  whose  eyes  were  brighter  and  whose 
heart  was  prouder  than  ever  before. 


17 


CHAPTER   II 

THE   CLEARING 

DAN  RANK  and  his  father  were  at  work 
in  "  the  clearing." 

The  young  man  was  conscious  of  a  com- 
fortable sense  of  warmth  in  the  air  as  he 
swung  his  ax.  He  was  thrilled  with  a  vigor 
and  strength  about  which  he  did  not  think 
at  all.  The  steel  blade  sunk  deeply  into 
the  oak,  and  he  exulted  as  a  mighty  blow 
loosed  a  great  chip  and  sent  it  flying  clear ; 
exulted,  and  struck  deeper  if  possible  next 
time,  delighting  to  know  that  the  strokes  of 
his  father  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bole 
were  not  so  effective  as  his  own. 

There  is  a  tonic  in  exercise  when  one  is 
strong,  when  healthy  blood  hurries  in  the 
veins,  when  youth  is  here,  and  the  days  are 
fine. 

And  this  day  was  very  fair  indeed.    It 
18 


The  Clearing 

was  yet  March,  and  the  air  was  crisp  with 
the  memory  of  winter.  But  the  sun  shone, 
and  there  was  promise  of  color  in  the 
masses  of  the  distant  woods.  The  temper 
of  the  day  was  moderated  in  the  clear- 
ing because  fires  were  there.  Great  heaps 
of  logs — fine  timber  of  walnut  and  pop- 
lar that  would  be  almost  priceless  now — 
were  burning  on  the  ground  the  men  had 
passed  with  their  chopping.  And  as  the 
wind  swung  lazily  from  point  to  point  of 
the  compass,  it  carried  currents  of  warmth 
to  the  farmer  and  his  son;  and  on  beyond 
them  to  the  surface  of  the  lazy  river;  or, 
veering  about,  to  the  narrow  canal  that  cut 
like  a  gash  diagonally  across  Indiana. 

Cattle  were  browsing  about  in  the  edge 
of  the  forest,  or  standing  quietly  where  the 
waves  of  softer  air  could  warm  them.  Se- 
lim  was  near  them :  Selim,  the  colt,  Dan's 
especial  property  from  the  beginning; 
strong  enough  to  bear  the  saddle,  and  fly 
with  his  master  where  roads  were  level. 

The  oak,  which  had  answered  ax  strokes 
19 


The  Outlaws 

with  dull  defiance  at  first,  had  lifted  its 
bass  notes  to  a  piping  treble  as  the  blades 
on  the  opposite  sides  approached  its  heart ; 
and  before  the  final  citadel  was  taken,  the 
great  tree  shivered,  then  slowly  turned, 
and,  surrendering,  swept  with  a  mighty 
sound  of  branches  rushing  through  the  air, 
of  timber  rending,  and  a  sullen  impact  on 
the  stubborn  ground. 

They  stood  at  rest  for  a  moment,  these 
two  men — the  one  mature,  sedate;  the 
other  young,  and  rich  with  unguessed  pow- 
ers. And  then  they  attacked  the  branches, 
and  lopped  them  off,  preparing  this  mon- 
arch of  the  forest  for  his  funeral  pyre. 

That  necessitated  hauling,  and  the  use 
of  oxen ;  and  the  log-chain  was  at  the  home 
of  a  borrowing  farmer,  a  mile  away.  It 
was  a  relief  for  Dan  Rank  to  know  that  he 
must  go  for  it.  He  swung  his  ax  for  a 
mighty  stroke,  and  sunk  it  deep  in  the 
fresh-cut  stump.  Then  he  strode  off  across 
the  field  toward  the  foot-bridge  that 

spanned  the  canal.    Selim  saw  him  start, 
20 


The  Clearing 


and  followed,  with  a  whinnying  call  from 
his  colthood  to  the  boyhood  that  still  lin- 
gered in  the  heart  of  this  creature  man- 
grown.  The  colt  stopped  at  the  strong  rail 
fence,  and  put  his  head  across  for  the 
caress  his  master  never  denied  him.  Then 
he  galloped  back  to  the  clearing,  and  drove 
the  cattle  from  their  warm  places  in  the 
zone  of  milder  air. 

Dan  Eank  was  whistling  as  he  passed 
the  cabin  of  Jared  Caruth*  He  saw  the  old 
man  mending  a  saddle  at  the  sunny  side  of 
the  little  house,  and  nodded  to  him.  He 
saw  young  Prudence  at  the  window,  and 
laughed  as  he  saluted  her  with  a  wave  of 
the  hand.  And  then  he  trudged  along  till 
the  corner  of  the  cabin  hid  him  from  the 
settler.  But,  once  concealed  from  that  for- 
bidding eye,  he  touched  the  tips  of  his  fin- 
gers to  his  lips,  and  tossed  a  kiss  to  the 
girl  at  the  window. 

It  was  not  easy  to  continue  the  whist- 
ling as  he  did  so,  but  he  knew  old  Jared 

was  alert ;  and  his  difficulty  became  greater 
21 


The  Outlaws 

when  his  daring  drove  fair  Prudence  from 
the  window — not  smiling  upon  his  bold- 
ness, yet  not  rebuking  him. 

He  wanted  to  laugh,  for  the  spirit  of 
mischief  was  stirred  by  the  fact  that  he 
knew  the  girl's  father  kept  all  young  men 
from  that  Quaker  maiden — that  daughter 
of  a  Quaker  mother  long  since  gathered 
to  the  silent  company  of  Friends. 

It  was  a  vigorous  figure  old  Jared  saw 
as  he  left  the  saddle  and  stepped  to  the 
corner  of  the  cabin,  for  the  old  man  took 
nothing  for  granted ;  a  vigorous  figure  that 
swung  strongly  along  the  country  road, 
careless,  venturesome,  and  too  full  of  life 
to  dream  of  the  limits  of  living.  And  he 
turned  his  gaze  from  there  to  the  colt,  still 
troubling  the  cows,  or  stopping  to  browse 
at  the  softening  twigs. 

"If  the  outlaws  should  ketch  Selim 
some  night — "  mused  Jared;  and  then  he 
returned  to  the  saddle. 

Dan  Rank  thought,  as  he  heard  his 

colt's  hoofs  drumming  over  the  turf  of 

22 


The  Clearing 

the  clearing,  how  quickly  lie  might  have 
made  the  errand  if  mounted.  But  he  could 
not  use  that  steed  for  such  labor.  Horse- 
flesh was  precious  in  those  days,  and  the 
youth  with  a  colt  was  favored  among  mor- 
tals. But  he  was  not  capable  of  sacrilege. 

Where  the  bridge  lifted  from  the  high- 
road to  the  crossing  of  the  canal,  he 
stopped ;  for  he  heard  far  back  through  the 
woods  the  horn  that  told  him  a  packet 
was  coming.  In  those  days  the  transporta- 
tion companies  were  modest,  and  not  above 
stopping  wherever  business  called  them. 
And  a  steersman  was  poor  indeed  if  he 
could  not  own  a  horn — and  very  stolid  if 
he  failed  to  blow  it  lustily  when  approach- 
ing a  landing  however  humble. 

"Leaving  letters  for  Judge  Evans," 
said  Dan  Bank,  gaging  the  place  where 
the  packet  had  touched,  and  arguing  the 
rest  as  detectives  unravel  mysteries.  "  Pll 
bet  Phil  Whitesell  is  there  to  get  them,  and 
pretending  they  are  from  ghosts." 

He  stood  at  the  crown  of  the  wooden 
28 


The  Outlaws 

structure,  and  waited  till  the  boat  rounded 
a  curve  in  the  canal,  and  came  into  the 
straightaway  course  that  held  almost  to 
Lafayette. 

"  It's  the  Lewis  Cass,"  said  Dan  to  him- 
self, for  the  packets  were  known  by  name. 
And  this  differed  from  most,  for  it  had  a 
great  deck,  reaching  some  yards  forward 
of  the  cabin.  It  had  been  designed  for  the 
bearing,  on  its  initial  trip,  of  the  man 
whose  name  was  bestowed  upon  it,  when 
he  came — large  with  political  importance — 
to  the  "West,  and  formally  "  opened  "  the 
canal. 

And  an  odd  thing  had  happened  on  that 
distant  day.  Fort  Wayne,  first  station 
west  of  the  "  portage,"  over  which  French 
and  Saxon  and  Indian  allies  had  dragged 
their  canoes,  made  a  great  event  of  the 
"  opening."  They  set  apart  the  Fourth  of 
July  for  the  celebrating.  General  Cass, 
the  best  known  figure  in  the  West,  came 
pompously  to  mark  the  occasion  with  a 

speech,  and  to  build  even  higher  his  polit- 
24 


The  Clearing 

ical  fences.  The  boat  wearing  his  name 
bore  him  and  his  party  as  well.  They 
came  to  the  landing  where  the  crowd  was 
gathered,  where  the  Northwest  Terri- 
tory was  reaching  to  clasp  the  hand  of 
the  East.  The  bands  were  playing,  and 
the  militia  was  drawn  up  in  training-day 
formation.  The  great  man  stood  a  little 
in  advance  of  his  notable  friends  on  that 
extended  forward  deck,  his  right  hand  in 
the  breast  of  his  splendid  coat,  his  tower- 
ing form  notable  among  ten  thousand.  He 
waited  there  the  signal  to  land — for  a 
local  poet  was  reciting  his  glorious  deeds, 
and  at  the  same  time  painting  in  heroic 
verse  the  mission  of  the  canal.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  poem  the  general  passed 
pompously  up  the  plank  just  as  some  imp 
of  chance  moved  the  boat  to  drift  from 
shore.  The  plank  fell  short,  and  the  gen- 
eral, primed  for  periods,  threw  up  his  arms 
like  a  common  yokel,  and  fell  into  the  mud- 
dy waters  of  the  new  canal. 

He  came  up  moist  but  fervid.    He  was 

25 


The  Outlaws 

lifted  out  by  friendly  hands,  and  delivered 
an  oration  that  held  Indiana  for  him  in 
the  next  convention.  And  his  boat,  having 
borne  a  deity,  fell  to  the  uses  of  a  common 
packet,  and  pushed  its  curiously  long  nose 
up  and  own  the  channel  for  many  a  useful 
year. 

But  Dan  Eank  knew  nothing  of  all  this. 
He  saw  only  a  boat  with  a  long  deck  for- 
ward, and  some  gilding  on  lintel  and  sash. 

The  fair  day  had  drawn  most  of  the  pas- 
sengers to  the  outer  air,  and  Dan  watched 
them  loitering  about,  and  chatting.  One 
seemed  to  attract  general  attention.  He 
was  telling  a  story.  A  number  listened, 
some  strolling  near ;  others — in  the  blessed 
silence  of  an  old-time  means  of  travel — 
gave  audience  from  a  distance.  And  then 
there  was  a  burst  of  laughter,  a  dissolving 
of  groups,  and  a  new  aimlessness  in  the 
loitering. 

Dan  marked  this  man,  followed  his 
lithe  tread  about  the  deck,  and  noted  his 
curious  separation  from  the  others.  When 
26 


The  Clearing 

two  women  appeared,  wrapped  for  quitting 
the  vessel,  clearly  enticed  by  the  nearness 
of  their  journey's  end,  Dan  Bank  found  it 
quite  to  be  expected  that  this  affable  man 
should  pause  before  them,  addressing 
them,  and  that  they  should  favor  him  with 
their  attention,  should  give  smiling  reply, 
should  laugh  at  some  sally,  and  laugh  still 
more  heartily  as  he  swept  a  graceful  arm 
in  a  gesture  that  comprehended  the  re- 
gion about  them.  He  was  declaiming,  sa- 
tiric, and — impressive. 

He  was  better  dressed  than  were  the 
other  men,  was  this  stranger.  Those  were 
merchants  returning  from  Buffalo,  or,  by 
chance,  from  far  New  York.  Their  garb 
was  the  garb  of  the  best  in  the  new  land. 
Their  manner  was  the  sincerer  and  fear- 
less, though  unpolished,  habit  of  a  genera- 
tion not  advanced  to  subterfuge.  They 
were  hearty,  big-lived  and  big-limbed ;  con- 
scious of  the  battle  before  them,  and  equal- 
ly conscious  of  their  ability  to  conquer. 
They  were  men  of  small  pleasures  rarely 
3  27 


The  Outlaws 

indulged,  yet  capable  by  that  economy  of 
such  excesses  on  occasion  as  would  wear 
and  wilt  the  prodigal  sons  of  an  older  so- 
ciety. 

As  the  boat  came  nearer,  the  tandem 
mules  on  the  tow-path  keeping  the  steady 
trot  that  consumes  many  miles,  Dan  Hank 
could  hear  fragments  of  speech.  His  hero 
there  on  the  deck  became  to  him  not  the 
central  figure  only,  but  the  sole  figure. 
Tall  and  slender,  yet  graceful,  this  traveler 
seemed  a  nervous  organism  with  plenty  of 
strength,  but  with  alertness,  activity,  and 
dexterousness  that  makes  superior  crea- 
tures. The  young  fellow  clothed  his 
stranger  with  ideal  attributes  in  those 
rapid  moments  as  the  boat  came  on.  This 
was  a  leader  somewhere  in  that  dim,  half- 
mythical  East  to  which  the  canal  was  to 
link  the  Western  country.  He  was  unlike 
the  plodder.  He  was,  of  course,  already 
possessed  of  the  means  for  which  they 
toiled  and  labored,  prayed  and  calculated. 

He  was  above  the  necessities  of  work  and 

28 


The  Clearing 

of  worry.  He  was  safe  in  the  citadel  of 
happiness.  And  the  thought  was  an  elixir 
to  the  young  man,  though  he  had  never 
known  a  task  too  heavy.  He  was  too 
healthy,  too  nearly  normal,  to  complain; 
yet  there  was  an  irksomeness  in  the  snail- 
like  pace  with  which  reward  approached; 
and  his  eyes  grew  large  as  he  took  stock 
of  his  hero. 

The  canal-boat  was  near.  The  figure  of 
the  young  man  there  on  the  bridge  caught 
the  quick  eye  of  the  stranger,  and  he  di- 
rected the  attention  of  the  women.  Dan 
Rank  forgot  his  own  prominence  in  noting 
that  this  hero  needed  but  to  glance,  and 
the  eyes  of  all  present  followed.  But  he 
was  startled  to  hear  that  hero  say,  in  a 
tone  quite  level  and  unexcited: 

"  I  bet  he  jumps." 

"  I  bet  he  don't,"  said  a  passenger 
standing  near. 

"Two  bits?" 

"  Two  bits." 

Dan  Rank  felt  a  thrill  of  loyalty  to  a 
29 


The  Outlaws 

friend.  The  stake  was  small.  He  knew 
the  amount  was  unconsidered  by  that 
Apollo  from  the  East,  but  he  knew  the 
committal  of  judgment  was  everything, 
and  he  turned  from  the  rail  with  an  im- 
pulse of  enfranchisement  from  all  habit, 
of  release  from  all  obligation,  the  ichor  of 
loftier  spheres  in  his  veins,  and  his  resolu- 
tion roused  to  justify  the  confidence  of  that 
man. 

He  walked  to  the  farther  side  of  the 
bridge,  laid  his  hand  on  the  rail  as  the 
prow  of  the  boat  pushed  into  view,  waited 
an  instant  till  the  space  he  remembered  in 
the  grouping  came  below,  and  then  he 
vaulted  lightly  over. 

Down  through  the  air  he  went  till  his 
feet  struck  the  deck.  He  regained  his  bal- 
ance, shaken  by  the  fall  and  the  movement 
of  the  vessel,  and  looked  smiling  at  the 
man.  That  controlling  creature  stepped 
forward  beaming,  and  extended  his  hand. 
From  the  women  came  little  screams  of 

surprise.    From  the  men  unspoken  aston- 
30 


The  Clearing 


ishment.  They  were  startled ;  but  this  man 
wore  the  air  of  one  who  had  seen  the  ex- 
pected. 

"  My  name  is  Stocking,"  he  said.  "  You 
are " 

"  Dan  Eank." 

"Glad  to  see  you.  Going  to  Lafay- 
ette?" 

"  No." 

"Where?" 

"  After  a  log-chain." 

"Where  is  it?" 

Dan  Bank  indicated  with  a  nod  of  his 
head  a  direction  quite  different  from  the 
one  the  boat  was  taking. 

"  You  are  going  out  of  your  way." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  Why  did  you  jump !  " 

"  I  heard  you  bet  I  would." 

It  was  a  bright  light  that  came  into 
the  eyes  of  David  Stocking.  He  appre- 
ciated this.  A  traveler  touched  his  elbow. 

"  You  won  my  two  bits." 

Stocking  accepted  the  sum,  a  small  rec- 
31 


The  Outlaws 

tangular  paper  of  money,  and  thrust  it 
into  Ms  waistcoat  pocket.  He  did  not  fur- 
ther notice  the  loser.  He  looked  at  Dan 
Bank  from  head  to  foot,  at  the  long  limbs, 
large  hands  and  feet,  the  broad  shoulders 
and  flat  breast,  at  the  heavy  hips  and  the 
head  tilted  forward  slightly — a  type  of  the 
strong  men  who  develop  late,  and  last  a 
century. 

And  they  passed  on  to  the  town  to- 
gether. 


32 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   COLTS 

JUST  to  the  east  of  Absalom  Bank's 
farm,  and  lying  on  both  sides  of  the  canal, 
lay  the  estate  of  Johnson  Evans — Judge 
Evans,  they  called  him,  for  he  had  once 
served  a  term  on  the  probate  bench,  and 
was  more  than  an  ordinary  mortal  ever 
afterward. 

And  Judge  Evans  was  ill. 

When  the  news  of  that  went  over  the 
neighborhood,  public  interest  was  awak- 
ened, and  public  sympathy  was  roused. 

A  man  of  excesses,  of  violent  bursts  of 
passion  that  his  rank  as  well  as  the  times 
could  excuse,  a  man  of  brawling  morality 
and  tempestuous  justice,  his  malady  was 
understood.  More  than  once  he  had  top- 
pled from  the  angry  heights  of  habit  to  the 
33 


The  Outlaws 

strange  stillness  of  a  death-impending  col- 
lapse. 

And  so  in  the  evening  the  neighbors 
gathered,  without  summoning,  at  his  home. 
They  sat  in  the  big  west  room  of  the  great 
farmhouse  in  a  semicircle  about  the  fire- 
place, the  patient  in  the  twin  apartment 
across  the  hall  to  the  east.  They  talked  in 
low  tones.  Mrs.  Evans  and  Jane  flitted  in 
and  out  of  his  sick-room,  or  entered  and 
spoke  to  the  men  who  waited.  Maria,  the 
serving-woman — gaunt  and  constitutional- 
ly self -defensive — stewed  potions  in  the 
kitchen,  heated  herbs  and  flannel  cloths, 
and  waited  on  the  invalid  with  that  profes- 
sional directness  that  is  beyond  acquiring 
as  it  is  beyond  reward. 

From  time  to  time  the  patient  would 
groan  in  a  hopeless  tone,  appallingly  un- 
like his  natural  habit,  and  the  farmers 
would  exchange  glances  that  showed  their 
appreciation  of  how  the  mighty  had  fallen. 
Then  they  would  relapse  again  into  the 

chatting  that  made  up  their  social  converse. 
34 


The  Colts 

"  The  sheriff  is  back  from  Toledo,"  said 
Jared  Caruth.  "  He's  got  a  new  f  awnskin 
westco't,  all  spotted.  He  came  down  this 
afternoon  on  the  Lewis  Cass." 

"  That'll  be  news  for  Jane,"  responded 
little  Bill  Anderson,  the  preacher.  The 
girl  had  just  come  up  laden  from  the  cellar, 
and  the  mention  was  timely. 

"  Set  down  your  cider  pitcher  right 
here,  Jane,"  called  Seth  Eeed  in  that 
loud  undertone  that  becomes  a  shout  when 
men  are  hushed  by  nearness  of  suffering. 

"  And  give  me  the  pan  of  apples,"  com- 
manded Abe  Ehinehart,  as  he  made  a  mo- 
tion to  relieve  the  girl  of  her  burden. 

"I  can't  give  you  walnuts,"  she  said 
quietly.  "  Father  couldn't  stand  the  noise 
of  cracking  them.  And  look  out  for  that 
cider." 

There  was  bantering  in  the  tone,  in 
spite  of  her  father's  peril ;  and  there  was 
light  in  her  eyes. 

"Did  you  hear  that  Clark  Thompson 

was  back,  Jane!  "  asked  Absalom  Eank. 
35 


The  Outlaws 

Jane  gave  no  evidence  of  having  heard 
even  him ;  and  the  farmers  chuckled. 

"  He'll  be  out  here  soon  enough,  and  tell 
her  about  it  himself,"  interjected  solemn 
Phil  Whitesell,  the  hired  man. 

"  Old  news — why,  that's  no  news,"  re- 
torted Jane,  finding  place  for  pitcher  and 
pan.  "  Help  yourselves."  And  she  hurried 
away. 

"Oh— old  news,"  chuckled  little  Bill 
Anderson,  belying  his  cloth  with  a  tend- 
ency to  levity.  "  He  got  off  the  boat  here, 
and  she's  seen  him." 

"  She's  seen  his  ghost,"  suggested  Phil. 
"  I  knowed  a  woman  once  could  see  ghosts 
in  daylight.  Couldn't  hide  anything  from 
her." 

Jared  Caruth  had  poured  out  a  second 
dipperful  of  the  beverage,  and  plainly 
wanted  to  consume  it.  He  swung  the  bowl 
toward  his  body,  and  caressed  the  long 
neck  of  it  as  if  it  were  a  violin,  sweeping 
his  right  arm  back  and  forth  as  if  it  were  a 

bow,  and  beating  time  to  a  backwoods  tune 
36 


The  Colts 

with  his  foot.  He  was  very  merry.  But 
he  listened  to  reason,  and  passed  the  cider 
to  his  nearest  neighbor. 

"  Well,  any  one  that  can  see  ghosts 
ought  to  see  horse-thieves,"  drawled  Abe 
Bhinehart.  "  Could  she  do  that,  Phil?  " 

"  Everybody  can  see  them  but  the 
sheriff,"  rejoined  Bank. 

"  Maybe  the  sheriff  don't  want  to  see 
them,"  twittered  Caruth  lightly. 

"Oh,  the  sheriff  wouldn't  shut  his 
eyes,"  protested  Seth  Beed.  "  This  Clark 
Thompson  is  nervy,  and  he  kind-a  takes  a 
pride  in  arresting  people." 

"Well,  there's  worse  men  than  horse- 
thieves,"  was  Jared's  rejoinder.  "  They 
don't  bother  me  none." 

"You  hain't  nothing  that  looks  like  a 
horse — exceptin'  an  old  saddle,"  suggested 
Bhinehart  slowly. 

"A  man  rode  down  back  of  my  place 
one  time  last  fall,"  resumed  Jared,  "  and 
asked  the  road  to  Vincennes,  and  bought  a 

feed  of  corn,  and  give  me  a  dollar  in  silver ; 
3? 


The  Outlaws 

and  says  he :  *  If  any  one  asks  if  you  have 
seen  me  I  reckon  you  could  forget  it, 
couldn't  you?  '  And  I  says :  '  I  have  forgot 
a'ready.'  And  he  give  me  another  dollar 
in  silver,  and  rode  off." 

There  was  a  nod  and  a  smile  of  appre- 
ciation about  the  fire.  Even  strict  Absa- 
lom Eank,  and  little  Bill  Anderson,  the 
preacher,  left  condemnation  unspoken. 

"  I'll  bet,"  said  Seth  Eeed,  "  that  was 
the  man  the  canal  people  was  after.  He 
stole  their  horses  right  off  the  tow-path." 

"  Might  be,"  assented  Jared  cheerfully. 

Bill  Anderson  made  no  comment.  He 
was  watching  Jane  Evans  as  she  moved 
swiftly  and  silently  to  and  from  the  sick- 
room. She  was  big  and  strong,  and  yet 
wonderfully  dexterous.  Light  on  her  feet 
as  the  smallest  of  women,  "  handy  with  her 
hands,"  the  neighbors  had  always  said,  she 
united  the  nervous  facility  of  her  father 
with  the  Teuton  solidity  of  her  mother. 
Then  he  returned  to  the  refreshment  of  ci- 
der, and  made  penance  for  admiring  wom- 
38 


The  Colts 

en  by  passing  the  pitcher  to  Phil  White- 
sell,  the  hired  man.  He  realized  in  a  mo- 
ment how  severe  self -punishment  may  be, 
for  Whitesell  drained  the  pitcher,  and  sat 
with  great  complacency,  drinking  slowly 
from  the  dipper,  and  smacking  his  lips, 
while  the  little  preacher  suffered  in  si- 
lence. 

"  How  you  gettin*  on  with  your  clear- 
ing, Rank?  "  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"  Oh,  pretty  well.  Danny  went  after 
the  log-chain  this  afternoon,  and  he  didn't 
come  back." 

"I  seen  him  jump  on  to  the  General 
Cass  from  the  bridge,"  said  Phil,  between 
the  slow  sips  which  the  last  drinker  was 
privileged  to  take.  He  did  not  move  his 
eyes  from  the  blaze  in  the  fireplace.  They 
looked  at  him  dubiously.  It  was  an  im- 
probable thing.  Grim  Abe  Ehinehart  ac- 
cused him  with  unbelieving  eyes.  Seth 
Eeed  smiled.  He  lived  in  hope  that  fate 
would  punish  that  wrestler,  and  here  was 

a  report  of  departure  from  neighborhood 
39 


The  Outlaws 

convention  that  promised  the  hope  might 
be  gratified. 

"  No,  you  didn't,"  protested  Absalom 
Eank,  but  there  was  fear  in  his  voice. 

"  Then  I  seen  his  ghost,"  was  Phil's  in- 
stant and  unmoved  rejoinder. 

They  were  silent  a  moment,  and  the 
hired  man  continued,  careless  of  the  irrele- 
vance : 

"  Seen  a  ghost  go  through  the  woods 
here  one  time  as  high  as  the  house,  and  it 
run  like  the  wind — only  it  wasn't  running, 
'cause  it  didn't  touch  the  ground.  And  it 
went  northwest." 

Then  he  sipped  again,  his  eyes  still 
fixed  on  the  fire. 

"  Next  night  Jeff  Bacon  died,"  he  add- 
ed presently. 

The  time  was  well  chosen.  Something 
about  his  ghost  stories  always  silenced 
them.  They  knew  there  were  no  ghosts, 
and  would  have  held  to  that  contention 
stoutly  anywhere.  But  they  always  lis- 
tened. And  Phil  picked  the  moment  of 
40 


The  Colts 

their  reviving  assurance  to  add  the  arrow 
that  impaled  with  a  mysterious  fact. 

"Bacon  did  live  northwest  of  here," 
commented  Reed,  a  little  lower  in  tone  than 
even  the  nearness  of  a  sick-room  had  made 
him. 

They  all  nodded.  In  the  pause  came  a 
groan  from  Judge  Evans ;  and  they  heard 
Maria  hurry  from  the  kitchen  with  fresh 
applications.  Little  Bill  Anderson  was 
first  to  recover  the  level  of  custom. 

"  Phil,  you've  drunk  all  the  cider,  and 
I  hain't  had  none." 

"  Neither  have  I,"  added  Jared  Caruth 
unblushingly. 

Phil  searched  for  a  swallow  in  the  deeps 
of  the  dipper,  and  then  looked  about  for 
Jane  and  Maria.  But  the  women  were 
busy  in  the  room  across  the  hall,  and  he 
went  unwillingly  to  the  cellar,  lighting  a 
candle,  and  leaving  the  doors  ajar. 

Cider  in  April  has  attained  the  quality 
called  "hard."  The  ingenuity  of  those 
early  years  was  engaged  with  the  problem 
41 


The  Outlaws 

of  finding  some  treatment  which  would 
keep  it  sweet  as  at  the  making ;  just  as  the 
inventive  genius  of  other  times  gave  itself 
to  devising  a  machine  of  perpetual  motion, 
or  an  apparatus  that  could  wing  its  way  in 
the  upper  air,  and  fly  like  a  bird.  And  the 
native  spirit  of  the  earlier  age  was  troubled 
lest  the  inventor  should  succeed  in  taming 
fermentation,  and  make  hard  cider  a  thing 
unknown. 

"  I  heerd  a  strange  noise,"  said  Phil,  as 
he  emerged  from  the  darkness  below  stairs, 
and  closed  the  door  nervously.  But  he 
brought  both  a  pitcher  and  a  pail  of  cider, 
and  the  latter,  set  close  to  the  blaze  of  logs 
till  it  warmed,  was  doubled  in  strength. 

Ten  o'clock  came.  Little  Bill  Anderson 
and  Absalom  Bank  were  arguing  Scrip- 
ture, and  the  rest  were  listening,  kept 
awake  to  unusual  hours  by  cider  and  sole- 
cisms. Anderson  was  a  champion  of  im- 
mersion as  a  means  of  baptism,  and  a  fa- 
mous debater  of  this  always  engrossing 
topic.  The  other  knew  a  score  of  texts 
42 


The  Colts 

which  led  him  to  different  conclusions, 
though  he  could  not  present  them  with  An- 
derson's skill  in  argument.  The  groans 
from  the  farther  room  had  ceased  to  effect 
a  silence.  They  talked  in  lower  voices  than 
common,  but  still  in  tones  which  proved 
they  had  almost  forgotten  the  house  of 
pain. 

Presently,  through  their  cross-fire  of 
text  and  retort  came  the  sound  of  wheels. 
Farmers'  ears  are  acute  for  these  things, 
and  they  waited — even  salutation  suspend- 
ed till  the  wanderer  should  be  known. 

"  Somebody  go  out  and  see  who  it  is," 
said  Abe  Rhinehart,  grimmer  and  more  im- 
perious with  the  fumes  of  the  cider.  "  Ja- 
red,  you  go." 

But  the  fiddler's  chair  was  vacant. 

"  Where's  Jared?  "  demanded  Eank. 

"He  slipped  away  after  the  second 
pitcher,"  said  Maria,  the  serving  woman, 
redolent  of  medicinal  herbs. 

"Mebby  it's  a  ghost,"  mused  Phil 
Whitesell,  half  audibly.  But  the  sugges- 
4  43 


The  Outlaws 

tion  fell  on  attentive  ears,  and  a  deeper 
quality  of  silence  pervaded  the  room. 
They  sat  there  and  judged  the  identity  of 
those  approaching.  Ten  o'clock  was  late 
for  man  and  beast  in  early  Indiana.  Their 
practised  ears  took  note  of  the  indications. 

"  Two  horses,"  said  Absalom  Rank;  and 
the  rest  nodded. 

"  Four  wheels,"  added  Seth  Reed  pres- 
ently, and  the  glances  turned  toward  him 
indorsed  the  statement. 

"It's  two  rigs,"  declared  Abe  Rhine- 
hart  positively.  He  looked  about,  as  if 
challenging  contradiction. 

"  Two  rigs,  or  a  ghost,"  rejoined  Phil 
Whitesell.  His  eyes  had  returned  to  the 
fire,  and  something  about  him  affected  his 
hearers  uncannily. 

The  supernatural  is  nearest  those  who 
live  with  Nature,  and  know  her  most  inti- 
mately. Skepticism  and  courage  in  the 
dark  come  with  colleges — and  the  valet. 
These  men  sat  very  still.  The  room  was 
void  of  sound.  There  was  a  tense  effect  in 
44 


The  Colts 

the  very  atmosphere;  for  the  mysterious 
hoofs  and  wheels  had  turned  from  the  hard 
highway,  and  were  muffled  on  the  sodded 
area  between  the  hitching-rack  and  the 
road. 

"  They're  coming  here." 

A  voice  spoke  out  there  in  the  darkness, 
and  another  replied. 

"  It's  Doc  Borton,"  said  Jane,  quietly, 
from  the  hallway. 

"And  the  sheriff,"  added  her  mother, 
standing  at  her  elbow. 

The  spell  had  vanished. 

Little  Bill  Anderson  and  big  Absalom 
Bank,  forgetting  each  the  everlasting  error 
in  the  other's  creed,  prepared  to  greet  the 
newcomers.  The  others  speculated  on  the 
unseasonable  visit.  For  those  who  came 
were  notable. 

When  Jane  Evans  passed  through  the 
room  from  the  hall,  they  noticed  she  wore 
a  white  collar — the  knitted  linen  laces 
which  have  vanished  now,  except  from 
daguerreotypes. 

45 


The  Outlaws 

Before  she  could  reach  the  door  it  was 
flung  open,  and  Doctor  Borton  entered, 
peered  at  the  group  about  the  fireplace, 
and  drew  off  his  bearskin  mittens.  He 
kept  from  the  blaze,  walking  up  and  down 
the  farther  side  of  the  room,  talking  in  a 
perfectly  natural  tone,  stammering  as  was 
his  habit,  but  employing  no  bated  breath 
and  confessing  no  impending  doom. 

They  forgot  they  had  been  speaking 
without  reserve  in  their  debate  on  baptism. 
The  sound  of  wheels  had  led  them  to  re- 
cross  that  Jordan  of  repression,  and  they 
had  tarried  in  the  uncanny  wilderness  of 
sighs  till  the  healthy  doctor  came.  And 
even  now  they  could  not  quite  adjust  them- 
selves. 

Clark  Thompson,  the  sheriff,  shook 
hands  with  all  the  men,  calling  them  by 
their  "  given  names,"  looked  into  their 
eyes  with  the  assurance  and  command 
of  a  politician,  and  then  tilted  the  cider 
pitcher,  and  laughed  silently  at  its  dried 
interior. 

46 


The  Colts 

He  turned  to  the  daughter  of  the  house. 

"  Jane,  is  there  any  more  cider  where 
this  came  from  I  " 

"  I'll  see." 

"  Til  help  you  see." 

She  turned  back  at  that,  and  took  up 
the  candle.  He  held  open  the  door,  his  big 
frame  towering  above  even  her  generous 
proportions,  and  closed  it  behind  him.  The 
cellar  was  warm  and  odorous,  as  winter 
cellars,  well-kept,  must  be,  with  a  tempera- 
ture different  from  that  of  other  places, 
and  a  smell  as  wholesome  as  a  dinner, 
and  unmatched  in  all  the  aroma  of  the 
world. 

"  Not  that  barrel,"  said  Jane ;  for  her 
escort  had  planted  his  pitcher  at  the  faucet 
of  a  dusty,  bulging  cask. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Sour  as  vinegar." 

She  found  a  better  beverage,  and  they 
filled  the  vessel. 

"Sit  down  here,"  said  the  sheriff,  as 
they  reached  the  dining-room. 
47 


The  Outlaws 

"But  they'll  want  their  cider,"  pro- 
tested Jane. 

He  put  the  brimming  pitcher  on  the 
table.  "  The  cider  will  keep.  It  will  keep 
a  lot  longer  here  than  if  they  had  it." 

And  they  waited  there  alone,  and  to- 
gether. 

Doctor  Borton  walked  without  sum- 
mons or  announcement  across  the  hall,  and 
approached  the  bedside  as  soon  as  the  chill 
of  his  ride  was  taken  away.  He  counted 
the  pulse  and  passed  his  hand  over  the  face 
and  the  breast,  sensitive  to  the  dryness  or 
the  moisture  of  the  patient's  skin.  He  bent 
his  head,  and  listened  to  heart-beats,  his 
trained  ear,  unaided  by  the  instruments 
later  physicians  have  devised.  And  he 
pressed  open  the  closed  eyelids,  to  peep  at 
the  hooded  pupils. 

He  took  a  chair,  and  sat  by  the  bed, 
something  more  than  professional  solici- 
tude in  his  manner;  something  even  more 
than  the  solicitude  a  rich  patient  can  in- 
spire. 

48 


The  Colts 

He  leaned  forward,  his  face  above  the 
bed,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and  his  hands 
clasped.  He  was  studying  his  patient,  as 
he  had  studied  him  at  other  times — and  left 
the  problem  unsolved. 

There  was  unconscious  pathos  in  the 
practise  of  those  old  doctors.  They  groped 
in  the  jungle  of  a  profession  where  science 
could  shine  but  with  occasional  rays,  each 
one  a  student  at  the  bedside,  each  one  puz- 
zling over  his  problems  in  those  long  night 
rides — those  rides  in  calm  or  storm,  on  for- 
est road  or  level  highway ;  each  one  strug- 
gling for  an  answer  to  the  questions  that 
were  forever  new — the  questions  that 
eluded  answering  by  a  wholly  confusing 
change  just  in  the  moment  of  conclusion. 
Above  all  men  these  were  the  public  serv- 
ants, subject  in  any  hour  of  dark  or  day- 
light to  any  call,  from  any  distance ;  rous- 
ing from  needed  sleep  in  blessed  bed  to 
such  exposure  as  can  not  now  be  estimated, 
driving  or  riding  unmeasured  miles,  and 
fighting  death  in  many  forms,  with  weapons 
49 


The  Outlaws 

simple  and  inadequate,  with  shrewd  guess- 
ing instead  of  demonstration,  with  careful 
estimating  of  remedy  instead  of  well-estab- 
lished formulas  or  ready  preparation ;  with 
little  education — not  much  the  worse  for 
the  lack — these  were  the  doctors  in  that 
early  day. 

They  opened  the  eyes  of  the  newly  born, 
they  cared  for  them  through  the  beset- 
ments  of  infancy,  and  healed  their  hurts  in 
the  accidents  of  youth.  They  knew  these 
patients,  the  maladies  that  lay  in  wait  for 
each,  their  power  of  resistance,  and  the 
medications  to  which  each  would  respond. 
And  they  died  just  as  they  had  established 
a  sound  generation,  and  went  to  their  rest 
forgiving  a  myriad  debts  that  money  could 
pay — but  did  not,  and  a  legion  of  obliga- 
tions that  no  cash  could  cover.  And  they 
sleep  under  sod  as  silent  as  the  sons  and 
daughters  whose  health  was  in  their  keep- 
ing. 

Heaven  rest  them,  for  they  earned  it 
when  the  land  was  young ! 
50 


The  Colts 

Outside  the  watch-dog  was  running  from 
corner  to  corner  of  the  house,  barking 
fiercely,  and  making  occasional  brief  ex- 
cursions to  the  barnyard  gate.  Maria 
opened  the  side  door  of  the  west  room,  and 
stepped  out,  banging  it  shut  behind  her. 
After  a  moment  she  plucked  it  open  again 
quickly,  and  left  it  wide,  flying  into  the 
room  and  staring  speechless,  with  fright- 
ened eyes.  The  air  in  the  big  house  was 
filled  with  an  electric  quality  before  a  word 
had  been  said. 

Then  Maria's  tongue  was  loosed,  and 
she  uttered  the  one  cry : 

"  Outlaws ! " 

"  Where  1 "  from  a  number  of  startled 
men  who  hurried  to  their  feet. 

"They're  going  through  the  big  gate, 
and  they're  leading  the  colts  away." 

There  was  lack  of  purpose,  of  direction 
in  the  group.  Each  man  looked  at  the 
others,  their  faces  white,  their  eyes  star- 
ing. Absalom  Bank  reached  up  for  the  rifle 
that  hung  above  the  mantel.  He  lifted  the 
51 


The  Outlaws 

hammer,  and  inspected  the  cap,  finding  it 
bright,  and  arguing  from  that  the  gun  was 
loaded  and  ready. 

As  they  puzzled,  uncertain  which  door 
to  choose,  Clark  Thompson  dashed  in  from 
the  dining-room,  seized  his  hat,  and 
plunged  into  the  night — three  men  at  his 
heels. 

Jane  Evans  followed,  excited  but  silent, 
till  the  shadows  swallowed  them  up,  then 
softly  closed  the  door  to  her  father's  sick- 
room, and  gazed  from  the  window  in  the 
darkened  hall. 

Little  Bill  Anderson,  overlooking  the 
general  exit,  peeped  into  the  dining-room, 
and  saw  that  pitcher  of  cider  on  the  table. 

"  They  didn't  even  take  a  drink  of  it," 
he  observed.  And  in  the  absence  of  dipper 
to  measure  he  tilted  the  brown  earthenware 
pitcher  over  his  lips.  It  was  better  so. 
There  was  nothing  but  sated  appetite  to 
tell  him  when  to  cease ;  and  so  strengthened, 
he  bethought  him  of  clerical  exemptions, 
and  went  home. 

52 


The  Colts 

Across  the  hall  the  judge  raised  up  in 
bed,  and  flung  the  quilts  from  him. 

"  They've  stolen  my  colts !  Give  me  my 
boots  and  stick,"  he  cried.  "  Let  me " 

"  Lie  down,"  said  Doctor  Borton,  smil- 
ing happily.  "  You'll  g-get  well." 


53 


CHAPTER   IV 

TRIUMPHANT  IN  TOWN 

THE  Lewis  Cass  pushed  down  through 
the  Widewater,  where  freight-boats  lay 
close  crowded,  and  waiting  their  turn  at  the 
docks.  It  went  gaily  on  the  straightaway 
course,  the  helmsman's  horn  summoning 
echoes  and  publishing  approach,  the  rising 
city  to  the  left,  the  river  fathoms  below  on 
the  right;  and  Dan  Eank  saw  the  crowds 
that  waited  there  at  the  landing. 

It  was  very  new  and  curious  to  him. 
The  meeting  of  arrivals  with  thrilled  and 
excited  friends  on  the  wharf,  the  calling 
from  deck-men  to  laborers  on  shore,  the 
contrasted  sentiment  and  stoicism;  the 
smell  of  the  cargo  as  the  big  doors  were 
opened  amidships ;  the  smell  of  the  wharf 
in  the  sunshine;  the  bluster  of  a  busy 
town's  reception ;  the  noises  of  crowds  that 
54 


Triumphant  in  Town 

had  a  quite  unrelated  interest;  the  impe- 
rial authority  of  the  agent  at  the  landing, 
and  the  declaration  of  independence  that 
ran  from  the  very  verge  of  his  small  do- 
main. The  brief  moment  which  fled  away 
carrying  the  sense  of  sensation  with  it,  and 
leaving  the  even  pulse  of  the  city  undis- 
turbed by  a  canal-boat's  coming  or  going — 
these  were  the  broad  impressions  that 
came  to  Dan  Rank. 

And  then  came  another  reflection.  He 
was  in  the  city. 

What  now? 

The  people  all  swept  away  from  him. 
They  were  going  to  some  place.  They 
had  errands,  enjoyments,  purpose.  He 
had  no  business  here.  Besides,  he  was 
alone.  It  was  a  very  uncomfortable  feel- 
ing. 

Down  at  the  right,  at  the  foot  of  the 
slope,  was  a  steamboat,  unloading.  While 
he  looked  at  the  strange  costumes,  at  the 
negro  roustabouts — then  rare  in  the  North 
— at  the  curious  goods  that  hinted  of  dis- 
55 


The  Outlaws 

tant  climes,  lie  was  half  thrown  from  his 
feet  by;  some  one  passing. 

Eegaining  his  balance,  inclined  to  self- 
accusing  for  that  his  lack  of  purpose  left 
him  undefended,  he  dodged  half  guiltily  out 
of  the  way  of  a  big  man  who  carried  a  small 
trunk  on  his  shoulder,  and  bore  a  well-filled 
carpetbag  in  his  hand. 

Dan  Eank  was  in  an  attitude  of  apology. 
His  humility  was  increased  as  he  noted  this 
giant  bearer  of  burdens  was  taking  the  lug- 
gage of  David  Stocking  from  the  boat  to 
the  tavern,  where  waited  entertainment  for 
man  and  beast.  His  face  lighted  as  he  saw 
the  polished  Easterner.  It  was  a  leaven  of 
comfort  in  his  rising  self-accusing.  But 
the  hero  of  his  fancy  passed  without 
noticing.  The  Adonis  of  the  deck  was  a 
stranger  on  the  dock.  The  porter  turned 
far  enough  to  swear  at  Dan  Eank,  to 
frown  upon  him  as  an  offender  for  getting 
in  the  way. 

"  Come  on,  Tim,"  said  Stocking  care- 
lessly. 

56 


Triumphant  in  Town 

And  then  Dan's  healing  resentment 
rose. 

The  way  was  wide  enough.  There  had 
been  room  for  the  giant  and  his  load  and 
his  elegant  patron  to  pass  without  touching. 

"  He  came  out  of  his  way  to  bump  me," 
said  the  countryman  to  himself,  the  anger 
growing;  and  the  eyes  of  the  two  of  them 
met  in  mutual  challenging. 

Then  the  street  was  before  him.  David 
Stocking  had  gone.  The  votary  was  with- 
out an  errand  in  town.  He  was  stripped 
even  of  the  vicarious  excitement  of  men 
and  women  at  the  landing.  It  was  nearly 
sundown,  and  he  was  fully  ten  miles  from 
home — without  permission. 

Far  down  the  valley  he  could  see  men 
working  on  the  canal.  Travel  for  the  pres- 
ent ended  at  Lafayette;  but  there  was  a 
nervous  hurry  in  extending  the  waterway. 
He  strolled  down  there,  passing  the  big 
warehouses  and  the  busy  stores,  passing 
the  procession  of  wagons  that  brought 
produce  from  the  south  and  the  west,  or 
57 


The  Outlaws 

took  away  supplies  for  the  settlements  far- 
ther on. 

A  tall  fellow  in  the  coat  militiamen 
wore  on  training  day  was  talking  loud  and 
boastfully.  Men  a  block  distant  turned  to 
hear  his  proffers  to  "  outrun,  outjump,  or 
throw  down  any  man  in  this  town." 

A  crowd  began  to  collect  about  him — 
a  speculative  crowd — out  of  which  present- 
ly came  Tim,  the  big  deck-hand.  And  Dan 
Eank,  who  had  been  estimating  the  chal- 
lenger's probable  powers,  immediately 
transferred  his  antipathy  from  militiaman 
to  boatman. 

"Get  out  here.  I'll  rastle  you,"  said 
Tim.  "  I've  throwed  everything  from  here 
to  Toledo." 

The  challenger  looked  him  over,  and  lost 
courage.  He  lost  voice.  He  became  placid 
while  the  gathering  crowd  urged  Tim  to 
more  impetuous  demands,  to  more  vocifer- 
ous declaration  of  that  triumphal  progress 
"  from  here  to  Toledo." 

But  the  man  in  the  coat  of  Mars  had 
58 


Triumphant  in  Town 

lost  his  taste  for  war,  and  the  arrogance 
which  had  clothed  him — uniform  and  all — 
was  usurped  by  the  man  who  extinguished 
him. 

Maybe  it  was  because  of  hatred  in  his 
heart  that  Dan  Rank  walked  close  and  met 
the  roving  eye  of  that  giant  of  canal  boat- 
men. Maybe  it  was  because  of  the  unrest 
which  was  punishing  him  for  wasting  his 
time  on  a  purposeless  errand.  Maybe  it 
was  the  primitive  manhood  in  him  resent- 
ing the  pretensions  of  a  boaster. 

Anyway  he  suddenly  fronted  the  new 
challenger,  and  said: 

"  I'll  try  you  once  or  twice." 

Formative  periods  hark  back  for  their 
plays.  Schools,  dress,  convention  are  all 
forgotten  in  the  rush  that  thrills  old  hearts, 
and  will  continue  to  stir  them  till  all  hearts 
are  still.  These  townsmen  who  suspended 
business  while  they  watched  two  vigorous 
youths  wrestle  gave  rein  to  the  sense  which 
forgotten  ancestors  knew  when  the  race 
was  young. 

5  59 


The  Outlaws 

And  when  it  was  over,  and  Dan  Rank 
had  found  in  victory  the  content  which  con- 
science had  banished,  they  went  back  to 
their  civilization  as  from  a  draught  of 
strong  waters. 

David  Stocking  came  to  him,  and  bore 
him  away  in  triumph.  He  won  back  the 
place  of  honor,  the  pedestal  of  ideals,  in 
Dan  Rank's  thought;  and  they  ranged  the 
town  triumphant  for  many  an  hour. 


60 


CHAPTER   V 

ACCUSED 

WHEN  Dan  Bank  leaped  to  the  deck  of 
the  packet,  he  had  absolutely  no  purpose 
in  view.  He  had  accepted  an  impulse,  and 
had  acted. 

When  he  walked  up  the  tow-path  bound 
for  home  that  night,  with  the  white  shafts 
of  the  sycamores  gleaming  from  the  river 
bank,  and  the  March  stars  peering  down 
from  the  everlasting  mystery  of  the  skies, 
it  was  well  toward  morning,  and  he  had 
seen  a  new  world. 

His  friend  David  Stocking  had  proved 
a  capital  entertainer,  and  had  found  enter- 
tainment in  his  protege,  as  well.  Dan  re- 
membered one  of  the  songs  that  stranger- 
friend  had  sung  in  the  tavern,  and  amused 
himself  by  humming,  though  it  bore  the 
doubtful  title  of  "The  Outlaw's  Serenade" : 
61 


The  Outlaws 

"A  winding  road,  and  a  dark,  dark  night — 
Sing  ho! 

A  farmer  waked  from  his  sleep  in  fright- 
Sing  ho! 

And  what  cares  the  horse  who  his  master  be  ? 

There's  a  rope  for  your  neck  on  the  red-oak  tree, 

And  a  drink  and  a  girl  and  some  gold  for  me— 
Sing  ho  1 " 

He  did  not  care  to  sing  it,  but  he  did 
not  want  to  forget  it. 

He  had  had  his  frolic,  and  now  he  was 
down  to  realities  again.  He  made  a  detour, 
and  brought  the  log-chain  from  the  neigh- 
bor's without  notifying  that  neighbor  of  the 
recall  of  the  loan.  And  he  went  straight  to 
the  stable  for  a  season  of  chill  and  comfort- 
less sleep,  and  then  as  straight  to  the  clear- 
ing— and  was  rather  glad  to  be  there. 

Early  as  was  the  beginning  of  a  farm- 
er's day,  Absalom  Eank  was  not  yet 
breakfasted  when  he  heard  the  ax  of  his 
son  ringing  in  the  woodland  where  they 
had  worked  together  yesterday. 

He  came  down  with  a  fear  at  his  heart 
which  locked  his  lips  to  the  lighter  ques- 


Accused 

tion,  and  Ban  was  surprised  at  not  being 
called  to  account  for  his  absence. 

The  young  fellow  grew  weary  and  faint 
before  noon,  but  the  stubborn  strength  of 
self-punishment  was  upon  him,  and  he 
called  up  those  reserves  of  force  he  had 
never  before  needed,  and  accomplished 
more  in  that  hour  which  the  dinner-bell 
ended  than  in  the  best  on  his  previous 
days. 

But  the  dinner  he  ate  was  confession.  In 
the  stress  of  appetite  he  did  not  comment 
on  the  fact  that  his  mother  was  silent,  and 
that  his  sisters  wore  the  tint  of  tears  about 
their  eyes.  He  overlooked  the  evidence 
that  he  was  the  occasion  of  a  certain  re- 
straint in  the  home.  Of  course  there  was 
reason  enough  for  it.  Dan  Rank  knew 
that.  Who  could  go  from  home  and  be 
gone  all  night  without  explanation !  It  was 
beyond  precedent. 

He  was  at  first  quite  too  clever  to  stum- 
ble, and  by  any  speech  provoke  a  comment 
which  should  loose  the  floodgates  of  in- 
63 


The  Outlaws 

quiry.  But,  as  the  coarse,  abundant  food 
replenished  the  fires  of  his  energy,  that 
spirit  of  mischief  wakened  again,  and  he 
felt  a  longing  to  break  their  reserve,  what- 
ever the  penalty. 

Besides,  had  it  not  been  a  time  of  won- 
ders ?  He  wanted  to  tell  of  his  adventures. 
Once  or  twice  he  purposely  opened  the 
way,  tingling  with  the  enjoyment  of  mem- 
ory. But  there  was  no  response.  They 
were  not  disposed  to  discuss  it ;  and  he  fin- 
ished his  meal  a  little  baffled,  rose  with  a 
smaller  opinion  of  his  importance,  and  out 
of  that  gathering  a  half-resentful  mood,  re- 
turned to  the  clearing. 

Men  newly  arrived  at  full  stature,  and 
learning  little  from  books,  may  still  be 
reasoners ;  but  when  the  ambitions  of  youth 
have  been  physical  rather  than  mental, 
when  the  stroke  of  an  ax,  the  lift  at  a  hand- 
spike, prowess  in  wrestling  or  the  speed  of 
a  horse  on  the  straightaway  course  are  the 
chiefest  things,  he  is  likely  to  leave  reflec- 
tion to  those  whose  blood  flows  timidly. 


Accused 

He  is  likely  to  toss  the  whole  matter  one 
side,  and  hope  again. 

So  Dan  Bank  was  hoping  and  dreaming 
while  he  worked  that  afternoon,  piling  the 
brush,  and  flinging  the  branches  on  the 
fires.  He  was  reviving  the  incidents  of  his 
one  wonderful  night,  and  heaving  harder 
on  the  lever  which  rolled  the  logs  of  oak 
together,  heaving  the  more  mightily  for  the 
very  rush  of  that  memory. 

"How  old  are  you,  Dan!"  asked  his 
father,  when  the  afternoon  was  half  gone. 

"  I'm  twenty-one  past." 

The  boy — for  he  is  still  a  boy  at  twenty- 
one — was  not  yet  mollified.  You  know  we 
entertain  the  least  kindly  feelings  for  those 
we  have  wounded.  His  family  was  offend- 
ed because  he  had  broken  a  rule. 

"  Yes,  twenty-one."  The  old  man  mused 
a  little.  Then :  "  Mebby  you  git  tired  work- 
in'  here  on  the  farm  all  the  time." 

Dan  Eank  was  startled.    The  level  gen- 
tleness of  tone,  the  unused  deference  sur- 
prised him.    Then  it  nettled  him. 
65 


The  Outlaws 

"Ain't  I  doing  enough  on  the  farm?  " 

The  tone  might  have  been  provocative 
of  anger,  but  there  was  a  father-note  in  the 
reply — the  most  remote  possible  from  re- 
buking. 

"  No  boy  has  ever  done  more.  But 
you're  of  age  now.  I  ain't  got  no  claim  on 
you,  and  no  right  to  your  work.  I  ought  to 
give  you  a  horse  and  a  hundred  dollars,  and 
a  suit  of  clothes." 

Dan  Eank  stopped,  and  looked  at  the 
elder  man  in  open-mouthed  wonder.  Every 
vestige  of  reasonable  warrant  for  such  an 
attitude  eluded  him. 

"  And  I  can  give  them  to  you.  I  ought 
to  give  you  a  few  books,  but  ours  was 
burnt  up  with  the  old  house,  and  there 
ain't  much  but  Pilgrim's  Progress  and  the 
Bible." 

If  he  paused  a  moment  till  that  wave 
of  emotion  went  over  him,  his  seamed  and 
weather-beaten  face  gave  no  sign ;  and  the 
harsh  voice  was  steady  again  when  he 
spoke. 

66 


Accused 

"  But  you  might  take  the  Bible." 

"  He  thinks  I  need  it — running  off.  that 
way,"  reflected  Dan  Bank.  Yet  he  worked 
on  aimlessly  now,  and  his  father  pro- 
ceeded : 

"  Your  mother  could  put  up  your  things 
'most  any  time.  I  reckon  you'd  like  to  visit 
her  folks  back  about  Tiffin.  Or,  mebby, 
you'd  better  go  down  to  Texas,  or  out  to 
California." 

The  young  fellow  suspended  his  per- 
functory effort,  and  sat  down  on  a  stump, 
looking  with  puzzled  eyes  at  his  father. 

"  'Tain't  more  than  reasonable.  A  young 
fellow  gets  tired  working  along  always 
with  nothing  but  his  board  and  keep.  You 
ain't  never  even  had  no  sickness.  And  you 
might  go  swift  out  West,  and  see  the  coun- 
try. And  after  a  couple  of  years  mebby 
you'd  come  back  and  visit  with  us;  and 
mebby  you'd  settle  down  here,  and  live. 
I'll  have  a  farm  for  every  one  of  my  chil- 
dren, cleared  and  fenced,  and  with  plenty 
of  stock." 

67 


The  Outlaws 

"Go  swift  out  West?"  gasped  Dan 
Bank,  wholly  at  sea. 

"  Yes — you'd  better.  And  then  you 
needn't  bother  to  write  for  a  while.  .They 
say  men  are  gettin'  awful  rich  in  the  gold- 
mines. You've  been  lots  of  help  to  me — 
done  more  than  I  could  these  last  three 
years." 

"  No,  I  ain't." 

"  And  I  got  no  objection  to  givin'  you 
your  liberty.  If  you  have  any  reason  to 
go  I  reckon  it's  all  right,  and  I  won't  stop 
you." 

"  I  ain't  got  no  reason  to  go." 

"  Well,  you  needn't  say  anything  about 
it.  I'm  your  father,  and  I'll  tell  them  any- 
thing except  the  way  you  went." 

"  Say,  father,  do  you  want  me  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  expect  you  better — for  a  while." 

"Well,  what  for?" 

"  You  can  pick  out  any  horse  you  like, 
but  Selim's  the  best,  'cause  he'll  run  faster 
and  furder  than  any  of  them.    And  he'll 
sell  better,  if  it  comes  to  that." 
68 


Accused 

Over  the  fields  of  his  healthy  life  blew 
the  winds  of  reality.  To  Dan  Bank  all  this 
seemed  a  dream — a  something  he  had 
known  dimly  once  before.  He  could  not 
quite  remember  the  details,  but  they  were 
so  near  to  recollection  that  their  shadows 
were  in  his  consciousness  even  before  his 
ears  caught  the  uttered  words.  It  was  time 
to  awaken. 

"  Father,"  he  warned,  "  you  are  stand- 
ing in  hot  ashes  there,  and  they'll  burn 
your  boots." 

The  elder  man's  rousing  to  present 
things  was  made  with  a  leap  rather  more 
clumsy  than  graceful;  and  the  ludicrous 
figure,  with  flinging  arms  and  hurried 
stamping  to  dislodge  the  coals — for  boot- 
leather  was  precious — broke  the  spell,  and 
the  young  man  laughed. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  about  my 
going  away.  I  went  away  yesterday,  but  I 
didn't  mean  to  a  minute  before  I  started." 

"Yes?" 

"And  I  ain't  goin'  again — not  a  step. 
69 


The  Outlaws 

About  Selim :  We  have  always  said  he  was 
mine,  and  I'd  like  him  for  my  own.  But  I 
never  thought  of  leaving  you." 

"  Supposing  there  was  some  reason  why 
you  better  go?" 

"  Well,  there  ain't  no  reason.  I'm  go- 
ing to  live  right  here."  Then,  after  a  mo- 
ment, in  a  less  forceful,  more  reminiscent 
tone :  "  I  was  with  a  man  that  had  been  a 
sailor." 

"Where  was  he?" 

"  On  the  canal-boat.  He's  going  to  live 
in  Lafayette." 

The  boy  had  returned  to  natural 
speech.  He  had  returned  to  habitual  con- 
ditions. He  took  up  a  torch  from  the  near- 
est heap  of  burning  logs,  and  thrust  it  into 
the  nest  of  twigs  prepared  for  it  in  the 
newly  piled  pyramid  of  timber. 

"  Mother  told  me  something  at  noon," 
resumed  the  father,  retreating  toward  hap- 
piness, but  not  forgetting  misery,  "  that 
made  me  think  that —  Well,  they  say " 

He  stopped. 

70 


Accused 

Dan  Bank  turned  from  the  crackling 
flames  that  roared  up  through  the  larger 
material,  and  came  straight  to  the  elder 
man.  He  had  never  before  noticed  that  his 
father  looked  old. 

"  Now,  I  don't  know  what  any  one  told 
her,  nor  what  any  one  thinks.  But  I  tell 
you  that  if  they  said  I'd  ever  done  any- 
thing that  I'd  better  run  away  from,  they 
lied.  I  just  went  into  town  on  a  packet, 
and  this  fellow  they  call  David  Stocking 
he  took  a  liking  to  me  because  I  jumped 
from  the  bridge  to  the  deck,  and  because  I 
rastled  with  a  big  man,  and  threw  him." 
He  grinned  a  little  at  the  recollection,  and 
his  blue  eyes  flashed;  for  it  had  been  a 
Titan  encounter.  "  And  he  set  there  and 
told  me  stories — me  and  the  others,  and 
the  feller  I  throwed,  as  soon  as  he  could 
get  up — and  he  drank  some  liquor,  and  I 
drank  some  cider,  and  I  smoked  one  cigar 
— till  it  made  me  sick.  And  then  he  showed 
us  some  tricks  with  cards,  and  sung  some 
sailor  songs — mighty  good  ones — and  I  lit 


The  Outlaws 

out,  and  walked  home.  And  that's  all  there 
is  to  it.  And  I  don't  want  to  leave  the 
place  and  go  away,  and — "  There  was  a 
break  in  the  voice  that  had  been  so  ring- 
ing. "  And  I  won't." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to.  I  understand." 
Then,  after  a  moment:  "What  time  did 
you  leave  town?" 

"  About  midnight." 

A  load  rolled  from  the  old  man's  heart 
at  that.  The  story  might  not  satisfy  com- 
pletely, but  it  was  acquittal  in  his  heart,  as 
it  must  be  in  the  law.  It  would  not  do  to 
cry  out,  as  his  comforted  soul  commanded : 
"  Thank  God !  "  They  were  too  stoical  for 
that.  So  he  cloaked  his  jubilation  with 
common  questioning. 

"  Didn't  you  have  any  supper,  or  break- 
fast?" 

"  Supper — yes,  at  the  tavern.  He  got 
the  best  there  was  in  the  house." 

That  was  all  for  hours.  They  worked 
as  they  had  worked  on  other  days,  though 
the  farmer's  eyes  roved  a  bit,  and  turned 
72 


Accused 

with  a  startled  light  toward  the  bridge 
whenever  strange  sounds  came. 

When  the  supper-bell  rang  in  the  dusk 
of  the  evening,  they  shouldered  their  axes, 
and  started  back  to  the  house.  Far  away 
they  heard  the  jolt  of  wheels.  Dan  Rank 
went  on.  The  father  stood  and  waited. 
Presently  the  sound  of  a  trotting-horse 
came  to  them.  It  trotted  without  pausing 
over  the  corduroys,  trotted  across  the  muf- 
fling bridge  which  spanned  a  creek,  and 
continued  that  unvarying  trot  down  the 
level  road. 

"  Doc  Borton." 

The  father  spoke  the  words  as  if  breath 
till  then  had  been  denied  him.  It  was  no 
officer  with  warrant  for  Dan.  Then  he 
called  to  the  unseen  figure  passing  in  the 
gathering  darkness  of  the  shadowy  road. 

"Hello!" 

"  Hello !  "  came  back,  though  the  trot- 
ting continued. 

"  Is  Judge  Evans  worse  ?  " 

"  I  can  tell  you  b-better  when  I  come 
73 


The  Outlaws 

b-back."  And  the  good  physician  passed 
on. 

"  I  was  over  there  last  night,"  said  the 
elder  Eank,  as  he  regained  the  side  of  his 
son.  If  the  boy  had  looked,  even  the  night 
would  have  shown  him  that  the  agony  of 
age  had  departed  from  the  weather-beaten 
face. 

"Is  he  bad?" 

"  Somebody  stole  his  colts  while  we 
were  there." 

It  was  irrelevant,  but  amazing ;  and  Dan 
Eank  must  have  walked  a  hundred  yards, 
speaking  of  that  great  incident,  asking 
questions  about  it — where  the  thieves  prob- 
ably came  from,  which  way  they  had  gone, 
what  had  been  done  for  their  capture ;  and 
then  he  suddenly  stopped,  set  his  ax  on  the 
ground,  gazed  in  the  steadfast  eyes  of  his 
father,  and  gave  utterance  to  the  one  word : 

"Oh-h!" 

He  had  comprehended. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AT  THE   STILE 

SUPPER  came  late  at  the  farmhouse. 
The  bell  was  summons  to  a  closing  of  labor 
in  the  woods,  but  not  to  the  ending  of  ac- 
tivity about  the  barns;  and  the  stars  had 
been  shining  for  an  hour  when  the  family 
gathered  about  the  big  table  in  the  kitchen. 

Dan's  first  view  of  the  faces  of  mother 
and  sisters  showed  him  that  the  load  which 
had  rested  at  noontime  was  now  lifted. 
His  father  must  have  found  opportunity  to 
make  known  to  them  that  the  boy  had  no 
reason  to  run.  It  would  have  been  too  much 
to  ask  a  pause  in  his  work,  and  an  explana- 
tion in  the  afternoon.  Consideration  rises 
as  means  of  communication  develop;  and 
even  now  nothing  was  said  on  the  subject 
that  was  nearest  all  their  hearts.  Vivisec- 
tion, too,  is  a  later  science.  But  as  the 
6  75 


The  Outlaws 

meal  progressed  a  purpose  rose  in  Dan 
Bank's  mind;  and  by  the  time  he  had 
drained  his  big  cup  of  milk,  he  was  resolved 
to  do  what  the  occasion  demanded.  He  was 
very  tired  and  very  sleepy,  and  the  big 
supper  added  to  his  drowsiness.  But  he 
must  be  set  right  in  the  house  of  Judge 
Evans. 

Ordinarily,  after  the  evening  meal,  the 
men  folks  disposed  themselves  for  rest  till 
the  deeper  repose  of  bedtime,  watching  the 
women  project  their  labors  an  hour  far- 
ther, as  their  morning's  labors  antedated 
by  a  like  season  the  men's  engagement. 
But  to-night  the  young  fellow  pulled  off 
his  heavy  boots,  drew  on  those  reserved  "for 
dress  occasion,  slipped  into  the  coat  which 
served  him  for  Sunday,  and  put  on  a  wool 
hat,  discarding  the  coonskin  cap  of  daily 
use.  His  father  watched  him  with  troubled 
eyes.  He  feared  that  attraction  of  gravity 
of  which  "  town  "  is  the  center. 

"  You  are  going — "  he  began. 

"  To  Judge  Evans's  house." 
76 


At  the  Stile 

That  was  consolation.  Dan  would  not 
rest  beneath  a  cloud. 

Selim  heard  his  master,  and  whinnied 
from  the  security  of  his  stall.  Dan  Bank 
called  to  the  colt,  and  then  swung  strongly 
down  the  road,  whistling  as  he  went. 

Some  one  was  standing  at  the  stile  be- 
fore Jared  Caruth's  cabin ;  and  he  whistled 
the  more  merrily,  for  it  was  common 
enough  to  see  old  Jared  there.  Strife  was 
constant  between  himself  and  the  father  of 
Prudence,  and  Dan  Rank  knew  that  if  any 
one  had  heard  that  suspicion  of  sin,  it 
would  be  this  unthrifty  resident — this  wid- 
ower who  mourned  but  little  the  Quaker 
woman  who  had  loved  him,  and  suffered, 
and  gone  home. 

But  as  he  came  nearer  he  saw  it  was  not 
Jared.  Indeed,  it  was  not  a  man  at  all,  but 
the  slim  figure  of  a  woman ;  and  she  slipped 
about  behind  the  post  at  the  end  of  the 
stile,  as  if  to  conceal  herself  from  the 
passer. 

Doubtless  old  Jared  was  waiting  there 
77 


The  Outlaws 

in  the  house,  but  the  risk  of  encounter  at- 
tracted him.  He  ceased  his  revoicing  of 
tunes  to  call  out  boldly : 

"Hello,  Prudence.  Waiting  for  some 
one?" 

The  girl  came  more  clearly  into  outline, 
and  after  a  moment  of  hesitation,  an- 
swered : 

"  Yes." 

"Who-- me  f  " 

"  No."  Then,  after  a  pause :  "  For  my 
father." 

"  I'll  help  you  wait."  And  he  came  over 
to  the  rough  wooden  steps  and  sat  down. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to,"  said  the  girl. 

"But  why?" 

There  was  a  longer  hesitation ;  then  she 
answered  with  a  woman's  reason:  "Be- 
cause." 

"  That's  good.  He'll  be  glad  to  find  me 
here — keeping  you  company  till  he  gets 
back." 

"I  don't  think  he  will  come  back  to- 
night." 

Y8 


At  the  Stile 

There  was  the  suggestion  of  a  sob  in 
the  tone. 

"And  you  all  alone?  Well,  one  of  the 
girls  will  come  over,  and " 

"No — no.  You  must  not  tell  any  one 
he  is  gone — not  any  one." 

Dan  Rank  looked  at  her  a  moment.  Dim 
as  was  the  light,  her  face  showed  him  all 
her  troubles,  even  if  the  voice  had  con- 
cealed them.  And  he  thought  rapidly. 
The  blow  that  came  to  him  in  the  earlier 
hours  had  made  him  wiser — had  made 
him  keener  of  mind,  and  broader  of  sym- 
pathy. 

"When  did  your  father  go  away?" 

"  Last  night." 

"Have  you  been  alone  since?" 

She  nodded.  Presently  she  added: 
"  He  went  over  to  see  how  Judge  Evans 
was  in  the  evening,  and  then  he  came  back, 
and  then  he  went  away  again." 

That  was  puzzling.  Dan  Bank  can- 
vassed the  matter  busily.  Presently  light 
came  to  him,  and  he  asked,  this  time  look- 
79 


The  Outlaws 

ing  across  at  the  grim  woods  beyond  the 
clearing : 

"  Did  he  take  his  saddle  with  him?  " 

Dark  as  it  was,  even  without  seeing  her, 
he  knew  she  had  nodded  an  affirmative  re- 
ply— knew  she  was  weeping  silently. 

He  put  out  his  hand  toward  her,  still 
without  turning  his  head,  put  out  his  hand 
and  touched  her — then  gathered  her  swift- 
ly to  him,  and  folded  her  close  in  the  strong, 
young  arms. 

"  Don't  cry,"  he  said  simply,  caressing- 
ly; and  half  her  burden  was  lifted  in  the 
blessing  of  sympathy.  Then  she  drew 
away  and  stood  alone  within  the  yard,  and 
the  strength  that  she  rarely  lacked  came 
back  to  her. 

"I  must  go  in,"  she  said  simply. 
"  Good  night." 

"  Good  night — but  don't  you  worry  any 
more,  Prudy.  It  will  come  out  all  right." 

"  I  won't  cry  any  more — now."  There 
was  a  conclusiveness  about  it,  an  effect  of 
bearing  fact  and  reason  both  in  one,  which 
80 


At  the  Stile 

made  all  the  earth  seem  different  as  he 
journeyed  on.  He  came  into  the  belt  of 
warmer  air  that  blew  from  the  great  heaps 
of  burning  logs,  and  wished  the  breadth  of 
that  zone  could  take  in  the  cabin  of  Jared 
Caruth ;  for  he  felt  the  girl  waiting  there 
in  such  lonely  vigil  was  strangely  cold. 

"  Took  his  saddle  with  him,"  mused  Dan 
Eank  as  he  stepped  across  the  canal  bridge. 
"  Took  his  saddle — and  yet  he  never  had  a 
horse  or  a  cow  in  that  ramshackle  stable 
since  he  came  to  the  neighborhood;  never 
had  anything  but  a  gun  and  a  fiddle  and  a 
trap — besides  that  fancy  saddle.  But  he 
takes  good  care  of  them — better  than  he  is 
taking  of  Prudy  to-night." 

So  full  were  his  thoughts  of  the  girl  and 
her  tribulations,  of  Jared  and  his  probable 
connection  with  the  taking  of  the  horses, 
that  he  never  once  paused  to  think  of  his 
leap  over  the  rail  to  the  deck  of  the  packet. 
Somehow,  there  had  come  to  be  less 
thought  of  his  own  case,  less  of  an  indi- 
vidual view  of  life — more  of  the  considera- 
81 


The  Outlaws 

tion  which  included  others :  which  particu- 
larly included  one  little  woman  whom  his 
arm  had  enfolded. 

He  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Evans 
homestead,  the  big,  heavy  door  that  gave 
into  the  hallway  with  the  ample  rooms  at 
either  side,  and  the  fireplaces  at  the  farther 
ends.  Jane  admitted  him,  and  he  noticed 
she  started  when  the  light  of  her  candle 
fell  upon  him.  There  was  a  bit  of  a 
difficulty  in  beginning  his  speech,  and  it 
was  increased  as  he  felt  the  chill  of  her 
reserve. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said  presently.  But  she 
pressed  him  rather  hastily  into  the  west 
room;  and  he  knew  her  father  was  lying 
there  to  the  right,  and  that  Doctor  Borton 
was  sitting  beside  him — sitting  beside  with 
elbows  on  knees  and  hands  clasped,  with 
studious  eyes  searching  the  hidden  condi- 
tion of  the  patient. 

"Who  is  it?  "  demanded  the  sick  man. 

The  girl  closed  the  door.  Dan  Eank 
had  walked  to  the  western  fireplace,  as  was 
82 


At  the  Stile 

his  custom.  Jane  did  not  offer  a  chair. 
She  was  increasingly  troubled.  There  was 
more  speech  in  the  east  room. 

Dan  Bank  came  directly  to  the  point, 
since  he  knew  no  diplomacy. 

"  Does  he  think  I  stole  his  four-year- 
olds?" 

Jane  stepped  nearer  the  sick-room,  and 
made  listening  an  excuse  for  not  at  once  re- 
plying. But  he  could  not  wait  then.  He 
had  something  at  stake  more  precious  than 
horses. 

"  Does  your  father  think " 

"  Hush — he  is  calling  you." 

Doctor  Borton  came  to  the  hall. 

"  You  b-better  come  in,  Dan,"  he  said, 
and  held  the  door  open. 

He  walked  in  very  bravely,  for  he  had 
come  here  full  of  indignation  and  resent- 
ment ;  yet  he  knew  he  was  without  weapon 
against  a  sick  man.  He  would  cheerfully 
have  challenged  the  judgment  of  any  num- 
ber in  able-bodied  condition;  but  now  he 
stood  beside  a  bed  and  looked  down,  his  hat 
83 


The  Outlaws 

in  his  two  hands,  and  his  strength  no  aid 
to  him. 

"  Dan — oh,  Dan,  how  could  you  steal 
my  horses  1 " 

"  I  didn't." 

"  Don't  you  lie  to  me." 

The  big  man  struggled  fiercely,  as  if  to 
rise.  There  was  threatening  in  his  man- 
ner. The  white  face,  with  its  unaccustomed 
stubble  of  beard,  the  flaming  eyes,  the  des- 
perate, the  unusual  in  the  picture — all  im- 
pressed and  confused  the  visitor.  Doctor 
Borton  was  trying  to  calm  his  patient. 

"  Don't  you  lie,  Dan  Rank.  After  grow- 
ing up  here,  right  in  my  neighborhood, 
right  in  my  house,  right " 

He  paused  there,  for  his  strength  would 
not  support  him. 

"  I  never  took  your  colts,  judge,  and  I 
don't  know  who  did.  I'm  no  outlaw." 

"  Then  where  were  you  last  night  ?  " 
This  savagely,  as  a  wolf-hound  for  an  in- 
stant checked. 

"  I  was  in  town." 
84 


At  the  Stile 

"What  for?" 

He  could  not  answer.  Neighbors  knew 
each  other's  affairs.  He  could  not  have 
gone  without  an  errand,  and  there  was 
none.  He  could  not  have  remained  away 
from  home  over  night  on  any  errand  with- 
out public  knowledge  of  the  circumstance. 

"  What  did  you  go  for? " 

"  Because  I  wanted  to." 

There  was  a  stubborn,  a  defiant  quality 
in  his  voice  that  the  sick  man  at  least  took 
for  evidence  of  guilt.  His  inquisitor  strug- 
gled once  more  against  the  doctor  and  the 
detaining  bedclothes. 

"  You  sha'n't  leave  this  house.  I'll  turn 
you  over  to  the  law.  I  have  caught  one  of 
them." 

But  they  hurried  the  young  fellow  from 
the  room.  They  closed  the  door  upon  him, 
and  united  in  quieting  the  roused  and  half- 
f  rantic  patient.  Out  in  the  west  room — Dan 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  be- 
fore he  knew  it — was  Phil  Whitesell;  and 
he  flamed  at  him  savagely. 
85 


The  Outlaws 

"Do  you  think  I  stole  them  horses?" 
he  demanded,  all  the  pent-up,  impotent  an- 
ger rising  against  somebody  that  gave  evi- 
dence of  equality. 

"  No,"  was  the  prompt,  frightened  re- 
sponse. 

"  Then  how  do  you  think  they  went? " 
demanded  Maria  from  the  dining-room 
door. 

Dan  whirled  with  a  look  of  sudden  sur- 
prise at  her.  From  childhood  he  had  been 
a  favorite  with  the  serving-woman ;  but  the 
uselessness  of  such  defending  came  to  him, 
and  he  turned  back  to  the  man.  Yet  it  was 
not  with  the  thought  of  contending  against 
him.  Trouble  develops  swiftly;  time, 
slowly.  He  was  thinking  of  a  far  more 
serious  problem;  but  Maria  repeated  her 
query : 

"  How  do  you  think  they  went?  " 

"I  told  you  that  mebby  ghosts  took 
them,"  responded  Phil.  "I  seen  a  ghost 
one  time  as  high " 

But  she  slammed  the  door. 
86 


At  the  Stile 

Dan  Bank  waited  a  moment,  and  then 
Jane  Evans  came  to  him.  She  was  just  his 
age;  but  a  girl  of  twenty-one  is  so  vastly 
older  than  a  boy  just  escaped  from  minori- 
ty. She  stood  squarely  before  him,  her  face 
very  white,  her  honest  eyes  looking  deep 
into  his  own.  They  had  grown  up  together, 
these  two.  Even  in  those  years  when  her 
father  discharged  official  duties  in  town  she 
had  made  her  pilgrimages  to  the  old  neigh- 
borhood ;  and  the  bond  of  child-fellowship 
had  never  been  broken. 

"  Jane,  I  did  not  take  the  four-year-olds. 
You  know  that.  You  believe  me,  don't 
you?" 

"  I  hope  you  didn't — oh,  I  hope  so,  Dan. 
But  they  think  you  did.  You  were  not  at 
home.  They  feel  very  bitter  toward  you. 
I  think  they  will — will  arrest  you." 

"Arrest  me — here — at  my  home — for 
nothing!  And  everybody  will  see " 

"  They  are  very  angry." 

"  But  I  am  not  guilty." 

"  They  all  think  you  are.  Oh,  I  know, 
87 


The  Outlaws 

Dan,  I  know  you  are  not,"  for  the  woman 
was  rising  above  the  accuser  now.  "  But 
think  of  the  horror  of  it!  "What  will  we 
do  I  Arrested  for " 

"  Horse-stealing,"  he  replied  nervously. 

"  You  better  go  away  for  a  time.  They 
will  find  out  before  long  you  are  not  guilty. 
It  will  be  better  to  come  back  when —  Oh, 
I  have  seen  them  in — in " 

"In  jail?  Yes,  I  know.  And  it's  good 
of  you,  Jane.  But  I  never  did  a  wrong 
thing  in  my  life,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be 
arrested.  I  am  going  about  my  business, 
and  the  man  that  takes  me  will  have  his 
hands  full." 

He  turned  to  leave.  Big  as  she  was, 
and  strong,  the  power  of  him  startled  her. 
She  knew  something  of  the  force  of  men  in 
anger.  That  rough  age  had  impressed  the 
lesson  of  contending,  and  the  havoc  Na- 
ture's simple  weapons  could  inflict.  Be- 
sides, she  had  a  personal  interest  here.  She 
thought  much  of  this  comrade  of  her  girl- 
hood. But,  if  he  were  taken — Clark  Thomp- 
88 


At  the  Stile 

son  would  have  to  take  him.  And  she 
dreaded  that  issue. 

"  Dan ! "  she  cried,  springing  after,  to 
detain  him.  But  he  put  her  off,  and  opened 
the  door. 

"I'm  no  outlaw,"  he  said  simply;  and 
the  simplicity  of  it  accentuated  its  strength. 

As  he  turned  to  the  east  she  heard  the 
beat  of  hoofs  from  the  west — and  was  glad 
the  moment  of  evil  was  postponed. 


CHAPTEE  VII 

THE  DOOR  OF   DESTINY 

BUT  Dan  Eank  did  not  go  home. 

When  he  came  to  the  bridge  that  night 
after  the  visit  to  Judge  Evans's  home,  he 
paused  and  leaned  on  the  rail  as  he  had 
when,  in  an  afternoon  that  seemed  very 
long  ago,  a  boat  came  out  of  the  east,  and 
carried  him  into  a  world  that  was  new. 
There  was  a  conflict  of  passion  in  his 
bosom.  First  of  all,  and  overtowering  all, 
was  the  thought  that  his  oldest  friends  be- 
lieved him  capable  of  crime.  He  could  not 
fully  realize  that  the  odium  of  outlawry 
might  attach  to  him.  He  had  never  thought 
very  deeply;  had  never  speculated  on  the 
ethics  of  life,  nor  even  on  the  forces  he 
found  about  him.  The  fact  of  being  a  part 
of  this  problem  which  seemed  swifter  of 
solution  then  than  now,  had  not  yet  im- 
90 


The  Door  of  Destiny 

pressed  him.  We  are  all  individualists 
when  we  are  young. 

But  he  had,  though  unconsciously,  a 
plan  and  a  conception.  He  realized  that 
this  great  region  was  fast  passing  from  a 
primitive  stage  to  a  period  of  full  develop- 
ment. We  underrate  them  if  we  fancy 
those  men  were  insensible  to  the  trend  of 
events,  or  incapable  of  foreseeing  those 
pages  that  Time  has  later  unrolled  from 
the  scroll.  The  spirit  of  the  era  was  one  of 
breathless  haste.  The  state  was  swift  in 
the  process  of  making.  There  were  canals 
here,  and  canals  there.  New  highways  were 
being  opened  daily,  and  with  impetuous 
hands.  The  wilderness  had  been  ordered 
to  blossom  as  the  rose. 

And  there  was  abundance  of  reward 
that  could  be  gathered  in  a  lifetime.  The 
country  was  flooded  with  money.  True, 
much  of  it  was  of  the  kind  that  might  or 
might  not  be  good ;  but  little  was  so  lack- 
ing in  value  as  to  be  rejected  utterly.  There 
was  canal  scrip — bales  of  it.  But  every 
7  91 


The  Outlaws 

flimsy  paper  was  good  for  lands  in  the 
choicest  locations;  and  land  was  being 
sought  for  by  the  wise — and  has  been  since 
the  family  of  man  was  established. 

He  who  had  to  offer  what  was  needed 
in  this  development  might  command  any- 
thing that  he  would — even  specie,  though 
coin  was  scarce.  He  who  had  labor  or  ma- 
terial or  influence  or  good  counsel  to  sell 
might  have  his  pay  in  money.  It  was  abun- 
dant. The  fruition  of  man's  desire  was  at 
hand.  For  money  was  the  magician  which 
could  do  all  things.  Money  was  pushing 
this  canal  farther  west  and  south;  was 
bringing  the  throngs  of  Irish  laborers  with 
their  picks  and  shovels,  their  strange 
tongue,  and  their  tendency  to  fighting — 
but  with  their  industry,  none  the  less. 
Money  was  urging  the  farmers  to  hurry 
with  their  clearing,  to  roll  the  forest  far- 
ther back,  and  to  widen  the  fields.  Money 
was  building  the  mills,  and  dragging  the 
saws,  and  teaching  the  heavy  stone  burs  to 
hum  in  a  musical  monotone  as  they  poured 
92 


The  Door  of  Destiny 

out  the  stream  of  flour  and  meal.  Money 
brought  strangers  in  increasing  numbers 
from  out  the  mysterious  East  to  the  trans- 
formation of  the  West.  And  this  man-child 
at  the  door  of  Destiny  apprehended  the 
key  that  would  give  him  possession  of  all 
things. 

Yet  his  was  a  settler's  view — not  that  of 
a  miser  or  speculator.  His  vision  was  of 
riches  digged  from  this  valley,  and  heaped 
in  beauty  and  convenient  use  within  this 
circle  of  enclosing  hills.  The  gathering 
here  to  scatter  elsewhere  was  not  part  of 
his  plan.  He  looked  at  the  right  arm  which 
had  held  a  good  woman,  and  the  hope  of  a 
home  was  in  him.  Jubilant  with  youth  un- 
formed, he  caught  as  he  rested  there  the 
purpose  and  the  promise  of  his  own  estab- 
lishment. He  had  his  duties  for  the  pres- 
ent; but  beyond  them  lifted  the  desirable 
heights  of  possibility. 

The  swift  coming  of  the  packet  yester- 
day, its  entrance  into  his  life  and  its  pass- 
ing on ;  the  flashes  of  that  night  in  town — 
93 


The  Outlaws 

flashes  which  for  him  illuminated  so  much 
more  than  was  done  or  spoken — had  broad- 
ened his  view.  The  very  vices  of  it  revealed 
highways  to  avoid,  and  made  more  certain 
the  profit  of  straight  paths,  however  nar- 
row. 

And  he  thought  of  his  future.  He  knew 
where  his  own  farm  would  lie.  He  knew 
those  acres,  still  thick-studded  with  giant 
trees,  would  belong  to  him ;  that  he  would 
hew  away  the  timber  and  spread  harvests 
for  the  sun  to  ripen ;  that  there  would  be  a 
house  at  the  highest  point,  and  that  Pru- 
dence would  make  of  it  a  blessing.  He 
knew  this  whole  country  would  go  for- 
ward with  him;  and  he  wanted  to  feel 
that  it  was  going  forward  in  part  because 
of  him. 

Something  from  Anderson's  latest  ser- 
mon sang  through  his  memory,  and  it 
seemed  he  had  "Bible  warrant"  for  his 
hope:  "From  the  wilderness,  and  from 
this  Lebanon,  even  unto  the  great  river 
...  all  the  land  of  the  Hittites,  and  unto 
94 


The  Door  of  Destiny 

the  great  sea  toward  the  going  down  of  the 
sun,  shall  be  your  coast." 

In  that  greater  day  he  saw  the  hateful 
word  "outlaw"  applied.  How  could  he 
wear  that  odium?  How  impossible  the  ful- 
filment of  his  dream,  with  that  cloud  on  his 
title  to  equality ! 

Besides,  Jane  Evans  had  said  she  did 
not  believe  him  guilty.  Had  she  said  just 
that?  He  tried  to  remember  her  exact 
words.  He  could  not  believe  she  doubted 
him.  He  had  known  her  so  long.  They  had 
been  so  frank  in  all  their  intercourse. 

He  had  not  stolen  the  horses,  nor  any- 
thing— ever.  And  he  was  not  afraid  of 
trial.  But  he  was  afraid  of  the  name  of  it 
— of  the  fact  of  arrest,  of  the  clinging  stain 
it  would  put  upon  him.  It  is  an  error  which 
youth  has  made  occasionally,  both  before 
and  since  the  days  of  Dan  Rank. 

Nothing  could  convince  Prudence  that 

he  was  guilty.    He  was  sure  of  that.    But 

the  lines  of  their  lives  lay  side  by  side  far 

away  into  that  future  where  "  they  twain 

95 


The  Outlaws 

were  one  flesh."  He  thought  of  her  in  that 
aftertime,  when  she  might  remember  that 
she  had  seen  him  with  iron  on  his  wrist, 
and  bleeding  with  the  fight  against  capture. 
He  would  save  all  that,  if  he  could. 

So  he  argued  himself  away  from  the  de- 
fiant mood  in  which  he  had  left  the  big 
house,  and,  as  he  did  so,  some  stirring  of 
that  jubilant  spirit  which  belongs  with 
youth  came  back  to  him.  It  is  the  tempta- 
tion which  liberty  holds  just  ahead — some- 
times from  the  farther  side  of  troubling 
morasses.  And  he  was  listening  to  its  in- 
toxicating melody  when  he  saw  the  lights 
of  a  canal-boat  far  down  through  the  trees. 

It  came  from  the  town.  The  mules  were 
trotting,  for  this  was  a  hastening  vessel 
with  very  precious  freight.  Men  were 
sleeping  below  that  arched  roof,  certain  to 
be  far  on  their  journey  when  they  waked 
at  dawn.  Money  was  there,  and  money's 
worth.  The  boat  which  had  gone  west  yes- 
terday brought  seed.  Here  was  the  har- 
vest, returning. 

96 


The  Door  of  Destiny 

He  watched  it  as  it  glided  under  the 
bridge,  the  helmsman  leaning  drowsily 
against  his  long  tiller,  the  boy  on  the  rear- 
ward mule  hurrying  his  animals  to  diligent 
speed,  the  dim  lights  gleaming  from  the 
big  cabin  where  unknown  beings  slept — and 
he  turned  to  the  tow-path — which  was  the 
side  farthest  away  from  his  home — and 
started  toward  town. 

The  moon  had  risen.  He  looked  to  the 
south,  and  saw  the  outlines  of  a  cabin  in 
Jared  Caruth's  clearing ;  and  a  great  hope 
welled  up  in  his  heart. 

She  would  know  that  he  was  not  an  out- 
law. 


97 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   DINNER  OF   DREAMS 

"AN  outlaw!" 

In  all  the  vocabulary  of  that  time  no 
word  meant  so  much. 

An  outlaw! 

It  suggested  every  imaginable  oppro- 
brious thought.  It  meant  even  more  than 
"  convict,"  for  it  implied  the  deserving  of 
conviction,  the  justness  of  punishment.  It 
included  the  thought  of  flight  from  home, 
the  running  from  arrest,  the  armed  defi- 
ance of  officers.  It  carried  with  it  the 
charge  of  confidence  betrayed,  of  treachery 
— for  the  outlaws  were  more  than  profes- 
sional thieves,  brought  up  in  an  alien  envi- 
ronment and  preying  upon  people  with 
whom  they  had  nothing  in  common,  for 
whom  they  need  feel  no  bond  of  sympathy. 
There  were  instances  of  infamy  in  the 
98 


A  Dinner  of  Dreams 

neighborhood,  in  the  very  household.  It 
was  not  alone  the  last  expression  of  crimi- 
nality. It  was  base — which  is  worse  in  the 
first  half  century  of  a  region's  settlement. 

But  the  outlaws  were  a  race  to  be  reck- 
oned with,  for  all  that ;  a  force  to  be  taken 
into  account.  No  man  openly  defended 
them,  or  openly  aided  them  in  the  commis- 
sion of  crime;  but  there  was  an  unex- 
pressed sentiment  of  toleration,  and  a 
never-forgotten  fear  of  visitation. 

Men  remembered  that  honest  Absalom 
Bank  came  one  night  on  the  camp  of  three 
with  their  stolen  horses,  while  he  hunted 
for  'coons.  And  they  remembered  that  he 
left  his  dogs  barking  at  the  foot  of  a  sugar- 
maple,  and  rode  to  town  and  brought  the 
officers.  And  men  remembered  that  the 
flame  of  Absalom  Bank's  burning  wheat- 
stacks  rose  higher  than  the  waving,  warn- 
ing branches  of  the  trees — the  crowding 
forest  trees  that  see  all,  and  say  nothing. 
So  men  held  their  peace,  and  let  outlaws 
fix  such  code  of  morals  as  they  would. 
99 


The  Outlaws 

Little  Prudence  opened  her  eyes  very 
wide  in  the  morning  light.  Country  people 
along  the  Wabash  are  commonly  up  before 
dawn;  yet  she  had  slept  till  the  sun  was 
shining.  She  remembered  —  everything, 
and  lifted  her  head  to  listen  for  the  sound  of 
her  father's  breathing.  But  the  place  was 
very  still.  Besides,  were  he  at  home,  there 
would  have  been  a  blaze  in  the  fireplace. 
Yet  the  house  was  cold.  That  silence  was 
increasingly  oppressive.  In  her  girl  heart 
she  knew  what  it  meant. 

She  lay  then  for  a  time,  thinking.  Last 
night — and  the  touch  of  a  loving  hand  came 
back  to  her.  That  was  music,  and  perfume, 
and  light  in  the  gloomy  vigil  she  had  been 
keeping  since  her  discovery  yesterday 
morning  that  her  father  was  gone.  It  was 
a  vigil  that  begun  before  she  learned  that 
the  horses  were  stolen  from  Judge  Evans's 
stable.  It  was  a  vigil,  too,  which  was  not 
wholly  new,  but  which  was  always  terrible. 

After  a  time  she  rose  and  went  to  the 
fireplace.  Her  own  bed  was  curtained  off 
100 


A  Dinner  of  Dreams 

from  the  rest  of  the  cabin's  single  room, 
and  there  were  attempts  at  decoration 
about  it.  There  was  a  shelf  where  her 
mother's  keepsakes  were  bestowed ;  a  print- 
ed sermon,  with  a  picture  of  the  Friends' 
"meeting-house."  There  was  a  strip  of 
rag  carpet  of  her  own  weaving  before  her 
couch,  and  a  chest  in  which  treasures  were 
kept.  But  she  would  not  look  at  her 
father's  bed,  because  she  wanted  still  to 
hope  that  he  was  there,  sleeping. 

No  glow  of  warmth  came  from  the 
ashes.  The  fire  had  gone  out  completely. 
Matches  were  rare  things  then;  and  she 
had  none.  Her  father  was  notoriously  a 
"  poor  provider."  Prudence  went  back  to 
her  alcove,  and  dressed.  Then  she  mount- 
ed the  high  bench  at  the  loom,  and  busied 
herself  weaving,  finding  in  hopelessness 
still  some  hope  that  she  would  wake  that 
sleeper.  But  the  shuttle  rattled,  and  the 
beams  clanged,  and  the  ropes  creaked  in 
vain. 

She  was  alone. 

101 


The  Outlaws 

From  her  front  door  she  looked  out  on 
the  big  field  of  Absalom  Rank ;  and  a  breath 
of  warm  air  from  the  burning  logs  came  to 
her.  Farther  over,  she  could  hear  the 
sound  of  chopping.  She  listened.  There 
was  but  one  ax,  and  she  believed  it  was 
Dan  Rank,  working  away  alone.  He  was 
thinking  of  her.  She  was  very  sure  of  that. 

Yet  the  sense  of  being  deserted  came 
to  her;  the  sense  of  unjustness — and  she 
whirled  toward  the  big  bed.  Of  course  it 
was  empty.  Of  course  the  neatly  smoothed 
coverlet  had  not  been  disturbed.  She 
looked  at  the  tidy  room,  the  order  of  it, 
the  arrangement  of  scanty  and  simple 
furniture,  with  the  pride  of  a  good  house- 
wife. She  had  not  deserved  to  be  left 
alone. 

But  that  was  the  moment  of  self-asser- 
tion. She  would  not  permit  herself  to  sur- 
render— to  cry.  The  temptation  came,  but 
something  like  anger,  as  she  gazed  at  that 
untouched  bed,  armed  her  against  it.  And 
she  set  about  providing  for  herself. 
102 


A  Dinner  of  Dreams 

First,  there  must  be  a  fire.  She  slipped 
across  the  road,  and,  keeping  cover  between 
her  and  that  ax  she  could  hear  but  not  see, 
ran  swiftly  to  the  nearest  heap  of  smol- 
dering logs.  She  took  up  a  billet  of  wood 
which  had  burned  at  one  end,  which  was  all 
bright  coals  for  a  third  of  its  length,  and 
sped  back  to  the  cabin.  Presently  there  was 
warmth  in  the  room.  Then  her  spirits  rose. 
The  sunny  temper  came  back  again.  With 
that  came  another  sensation — not  wholly 
unknown  to  those  who  had  depended  on  Ja- 
red  Caruth.  The  zest  of  healthful  appetite 
assailed  her. 

She  would  eat;  but  the  food  should  be 
fitting  for  the  girl  who  had  felt  the  strong 
arm  of  Dan  Rank  about  her;  for  the  girl 
he  had  comforted.  There  was  a  new  dig- 
nity in  love,  a  sense  she  had  never  known 
before. 

And  the  larder? 

It  held  a  bit  of  corn  bread — cold — and 
some  measures  of  flour. 

She  wrapped  a  shawl  about  her,  and 
103 


The  Outlaws 

walked  down  to  the  stile  where  she  had 
stood  last  evening,  where  the  one  perfect 
happiness  of  her  life  had  come  to  her — the 
ecstasy  of  a  first  passion  expressed;  and 
still  she  was  touched  at  times  with  a  very 
commonplace  desire  for  food.  The  men  and 
women  who  builded  the  nation  loved  with 
an  absolute  devotion  unsurpassed  by  the 
heroes  and  heroines  of  story ;  but  they  hun- 
gered and  they  thirsted  at  times.  They 
took  thought  of  the  morrow — what  they 
should  eat,  and  what  they  should  drink,  and 
wherewithal  they  should  be  clothed.  And 
much  of  the  time  they  were  vastly  unro- 
mantic. 

Prudence  Caruth,  indignant  at  aban- 
donment without  provision,  as  without 
provocation,  and  on  the  Mount  of  Beati- 
tudes for  that  her  heart  was  won,  had  yet 
room  in  her  nature  to  remember  broiled 
ham,  and  to  think  of  eggs. 

But  she  had  no  poultry.  The  thrift- 
less habit  of  her  father  had  left  that  un- 
provided, though  the  lack  was  common 
104 


A  Dinner  of  Dreams 

enough  even  at  better  farms,  in  the  early 
days.  She  could  not  hunt  as  a  man  might, 
though  there  was  game  in  the  woods,  and 
guns  in  the  house,  cared  for  with  the  same 
solicitude  that  her  father  had  bestowed  on 
his  fiddle  and  his  traps.  She  stood  in  the 
sharp  sunlight,  and  heard  a  partridge 
drumming.  She  knew  the  ponds  were 
troubled  with  water-fowl,  pausing  in  their 
spring  migration  to  the  northward.  She 
might  turn  trapper,  and  fare  sumptuously. 

She  looked  in  the  stable,  which  Dan 
Rank  had  properly  characterized  as  "  ram- 
shackle," but  the  only  trap  she  could  have 
handled  was  gone.  Yet  she  was  sure  she 
had  seen  it  there  yesterday.  She  gazed 
down  through  the  forest,  toward  the 
swamp-land,  in  the  tree-hidden  depths  of 
which  the  Sand  Islands  lay.  It  brought  a 
pang ;  for  Prudence  knew,  though  she  tried 
to  forget  it,  that  outlaws  made  those  hills 
their  rendezvous. 

But  half-way  to  the  swamp-land  was 
the  creek,  broadened  and  deepened  here  by 
105 


The  Outlaws 

the  canal's  embankment;  and  there  before 
her,  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  was  the  trap 
— closed.  And  it  held  a  mallard  duck, 
frightened  and  fat,  and  deserted  by  his 
flock. 

What  impressed  her  first  of  all  was  that 
her  father  had  taken  that  trap,  had  baited 
and  set  it  with  all  the  skill  of  an  expert, 
some  time  after  that  hour  when  the  judge's 
colts  were  taken.  She  repented  the  harsh 
judgment  of  the  earlier  morning,  for  he 
had  considered  her,  at  least. 

The  trapper  blood  in  her  stirred  at  the 
specimen  ensnared,  for  he  was  the  finest  of 
a  fine  race  of  birds.  She  released  him  and 
despatched  him ;  then  she  dressed  the  flesh 
with  all  the  care  her  mother  had  taught  her, 
and  in  an  hour  the  aroma  of  it  was  filling 
the  cabin.  She  sat  by  the  side  of  her  fire- 
place, turning  the  duck,  dipping  up  the  liq- 
uor with  a  long  iron  spoon  from  the  drip- 
ping-pan beneath,  and  pouring  it  over  the 
browning  surface. 

She  had  a  loaf  of  bread  in  the  "  Dutch 
106 


A  Dinner  of  Dreams 

oven  "  at  the  farther  side  of  the  fireplace — 
white  bread;  for  this  was  no  common  occa- 
sion. 

In  that  chest  by  the  bed,  among  the 
treasures  which  pioneer  maidens  cherished 
against  the  day  of  their  marriage,  was 
linen ;  and  a  cloth  of  snowy  whiteness  was 
spread  on  the  little  table.  There  were  solid 
silver  spoons  and  some  bits  of  china  in 
the  deeps  of  the  cupboard — the  former 
wrapped  in  fawnskin  and  preserved  from 
common  using ;  and  there  was  a  great  plat- 
ter with  castles  and  knights  in  blue — a  waif 
from  the  household  of  Friends.  In  the  last 
moments,  before  serving,  she  changed  her 
gown  for  one  of  fresh  gray  flannel.  She 
had  spun  the  wool  and  woven  the  fabric, 
and  Jane  Evans  had  helped  in  the  making 
of  the  dress.  Then  she  heaped  her  table, 
and  sat  down,  and  looked  over  the  splendid 
duck,  the  warm  white  bread,  the  sweet  po- 
tatoes, and  the  honey.  She  could  not  re- 
member a  better  feast  since  the  days  when 
her  mother  worked  miracles — with  nothing. 
8  107 


The  Outlaws 

There  was  a  welling  of  gratitude  in  her 
heart,  even  if  she  sat  there  alone.  Her  fast 
had  been  purification,  and  this  was  the 
feast  of  forgiveness.  So  she  bent  her  fair 
head  for  a  moment,  and  forgot  her  play, 
and  asked  that  silent  blessing  the  Friends 
had  taught  her — the  prayer  her  unregen- 
erate  father  had  never  employed. 

Then  the  play  came  back  with  a  wonder- 
ful tenderness.  Across  from  her  own  an- 
other chair  waited.  Before  it  was  laid  a 
plate,  and  upon  that  she  heaped,  before  she 
tasted,  a  portion  of  the  dinner.  She  was 
very  quiet  as  she  ate,  very  thoughtful  of 
that  guest  who  sat  opposite,  unseen,  yet 
real  to  her  hope  and  her  heart.  She  ate, 
and  her  strength  returned  to  her.  But  the 
dream  she  was  weaving  was  only  intensi- 
fied. She  thought,  as  the  stress  of  appetite 
passed  away,  that  the  guest  of  her  fancy 
deserved  something  more ;  and  she  brought 
from  the  ancient  cupboard  a  jar  of  pre- 
serves, and  opened  it,  placing  it  at  the  side 
of  that  untouched  plate.  She  did  not  taste 
108 


A  Dinner  of  Dreams 

till  the  thought  came  he  would  not  like  to 
eat  of  them  alone.  So  she  dipped  out  a  bit 
of  the  precious  fruit,  and  leaned  back,  tast- 
ing it,  thinking  what  he  would  say,  dream- 
ing her  replies,  biting  slowly  through  the 
fine,  white  bread,  picking  fragments  of  the 
odorous  meat — and  very  happy. 

For  about  her  waist  was  still  the  warm 
pressure  of  a  guardian  arm,  and  on  her  lips 
lay  the  glory  of  a  comforting  kiss. 

It  had  all  been  so  real  to  her,  and  so 
precious,  that  she  could  not  destroy  the 
fabric  of  her  fancy.  She  rose,  though,  and 
went  to  her  weaving.  That  dinner  of 
dreams  was  over,  and  she  knew  it.  But  the 
charm  lingered,  and  she  was  happy.  Dan 
Rank  had  said  no  word ;  but  we  build  our 
surest  conclusions  not  from  speech,  but  by 
deduction.  And  she,  taking  belief  from 
promise,  argued  to  the  fulfilment  of  a  wom- 
an's love. 


109 


CHAPTER   IX 

JAEED   COMES   HOME 

As  fair  Prudence  left  the  table  of  her 
fancy  and  her  feasting,  and  resumed  her 
work  at  the  loom,  she  heard  a  footfall  on 
the  crisp  leaves  near  the  ramshackle  stable. 
She  stepped  down,  and  looked  from  the 
window. 

It  was  her  father — worn,  tired,  stum- 
bling, white  of  face,  and  shifty  of  eye.  He 
came  in,  the  yellow  mud  of  his  clothing  tell- 
ing his  daughter  he  had  been  far  from 
home — and  riding. 

"  Ah,  Prudence,  my  dear  " — for  he  was 
always  gentle  with  her — "you  have  had 
your  dinner.  You  waited,  and  I  didn't 
come,  so  you  et  alone.  But  you  did  get  up 
a  meal  for  a  hungry  man ;  and  I  am  hungry. 
Has  any  one  been  here? " 

"  Not  in  the  house." 
110 


Jared  Comes  Home 

She  spoke  with  hesitation. 

"  Have  they  been  outside! " 

"They—who!" 

«  Eh-    Any  one." 

"  Dan  Rank  came  past  last  night." 

"Did  he  stop!" 

"  He  stopped  a  minute." 

"  Where  was  you! " 

"  I  was  out  at  the  stile." 

"  Last  night,  you  say!   After  dark! " 

"Yes." 

"  You  mustn't  be  out  of  the  house  after 
dark.  What  did  he  say!  " 

"  Nothing — much." 

It  was  again  with  something  like  hesi- 
tation; something  like  mental  reservation. 
He  had  said  nothing — except  all  that  the 
world  held  for  him  to  say:  The  words  of 
heart  comfort  that  she  needed.  He  had  not 
even  said  he  knew  her  father  was  an  out- 
law, though  she  was  aware  what  was  in  his 
mind  by  the  question  concerning  the  saddle. 
He  had  said  nothing  of  love ;  and  yet,  when 
his  arm  had  drawn  her  to  him,  all  the  lan- 
111 


The  Outlaws 

guage  that  ever  was  worth  listening  to  in 
all  the  earth  could  not  have  expressed 
more.  And  she  understood.  She  was  hap- 
py. Yet  she  was  true  in  the  letter.  He 
had  said  nothing — much. 

The  father  sat  down  at  the  table,  and 
Prudence  hurried  to  wait  upon  him. 

"  I  thought  you'd  ketch  a  duck  in  that 
trap,"  he  said  contentedly.  "I  generally 
get  them.  They  know  their  Uncle  Jared, 
and  walk  right  into  his  snares.  Ah — smells 
fine.  You're  a  great  cook,  Prudy." 

He  ate  ravenously.  It  was  little  he  left. 
It  was  less  he  inquired  how  other  meals 
were  to  be  provided.  He  fed  full  on  the 
mallard,  and  flattered  himself  he  had  been 
considered  in  the  preparing  of  that  rare 
white  bread;  and  he  made  poor  Prudence 
seem  quite  a  hypocrite  as  he  thanked  her 
for  this  taste  of  her  cherished  preserves. 

And  then  he  took  the  bootjack  from  the 

corner  and  drew  off  his  muddy  boots,  and 

sat  in  the  one  rocking-chair  with  his  long, 

thin  legs  stretched  out  to  the  fire — the  fire 

112 


Jared  Comes  Home 

he  had  not  kindled — talking  all  the  time, 
and  uttering  the  wisest  sayings  and  the 
most  instructive  counsel;  and  later  he 
grew  sleepy  and  suspended  talk,  and 
nodded  a  little. 

Then  he  went  to  the  bed,  and  slept 
eighteen  hours  without  waking ! 

At  the  end  of  that  time  Clark  Thomp- 
son, with  Phil  Whitesell  at  his  side,  reined 
his  horse  in  front  of  the  cabin,  and  shouted : 
"Hello!" 

Prudence  went  to  the  door. 

"  Is  your  father  at  home?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Heaven  only  knows  how  thankful  she 
was  that  she  could  say  it. 

"  I  want  to  see  him." 

Jared  Caruth  came  out  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, kicking  on  his  boots.  He  was  a 
shiftless  fellow,  they  well  knew ;  but  more 
cunning  than  the  rest,  and  better  of  speech, 
and  a  far  more  successful  hunter. 

The  sheriff  summoned  him  to  join  the 
posse  for  the  chasing  of  outlaws.  He  pro- 
113 


The  Outlaws 

tested  lie  could  not  go  till  he  had  finished 
fixing  the  loom;  but  he  was  given  no  alter- 
native. 

"  I  have  no  horse,"  was  his  next  objec- 
tion. 

"You  have  a  gun?" 

"  Yes." 

"Bring  that."  And  he  did.  "And,  Ja- 
red,"  called  the  sheriff,  "  bring  your  sad- 
dle." 


114: 


CHAPTER  X 
STOCKING'S  TIMELY  STRATEGY 

As  for  Dan  Rank,  he  had  plodded  stead- 
ily on  down  the  tow-path  toward  town.  The 
moon  rose  higher,  and  rode  with  splendid 
swiftness  from  peak  to  peak  of  the  cloud 
mountains  that  stretched  across  the  sky; 
and  the  stars  that  peeped  upon  him  from 
behind  the  folds  of  vapory  drapery  that 
curtained  the  west  seemed  to  tell  him  of 
days  to  come;  seemed  to  promise,  and  to 
vanish  before  he  could  fashion  the  form 
of  his  dream. 

Above  all  things  he  was  trying  to  fix 
in  his  mind  the  definite  objective  toward 
which  he  should  struggle.  It  is  the  puzzle 
of  youth,  the  riddle  that  comes  to  the  ear- 
nest always ;  and  he  tried  to  solve  it  as  he 
hurried  away  from  home — a  shadow  of  bit- 
terness behind,  a  vague,  illusive  troop  of 
115 


The  Outlaws 

possibilities  before.  And  he  wanted  to 
realize  that  which  was  most  desirable.  He 
wanted  to  feel  that  when  he  came  back  the 
untroubled  sleep  of  his  youth  would  await 
him,  and  the  joy  of  vigorous  labor,  and  the 
greeting  of  friends.  And,  dearer  than  all, 
approached  with  tender  hesitation  even  in 
his  thought,  yet  won  with  joyful  purpose, 
was  the  welcome  that  Prudence  would  give 
him,  the  blessing  that  Prudence  would 
bring. 

It  was  a  long  walk,  and  he  was  weary 
when  he  saw  through  the  midnight  the  dim 
shapes  of  the  buildings  before  him.  There 
were  the  shanties  first,  which  had  risen 
when  the  canal  was  building  here,  and  in 
some  of  which  still  lived  the  women  and 
the  children  who  had  watched  husband  and 
father  go  to  the  digging.  Then  the  larger 
houses  of  more  prosperous  citizens,  and 
then  the  wide  row  of  warehouses  and  stores 
that  fronted  the  street  and  opened  back 
doors  on  the  busy  canal.  There  were  many 
boats  waiting  their  turn  to  receive  or  deliv- 
116 


Stocking's  Timely  Strategy 

er.  There  were  torches  at  one  of  the  docks, 
and  the  night  was  pierced  with  their  flaring 
rays,  and  the  silence  of  darkness  was  trou- 
bled with  daylight's  sounds ;  for  command, 
response,  inquiry,  reply,  were  exchanged 
by  merchant  and  shipper,  by  warehouse 
foreman  and  the  mates  of  the  boats.  Men 
were  hurriedly  trundling  bundles  and  bar- 
rels and  bales  from  the  boats  to  the  wharf. 
Farther  on  there  was  a  stream  of  wheat 
from  an  elevator  to  the  hold,  and  bundles, 
barrels,  and  bales  were  being  hurried  on 
board.  The  crews  of  a  score  in  waiting 
were  profane  in  impatience  for  place.  The 
drowsy  ill-temper  of  sleeplessness  was 
gone.  It  was  the  nervous  energy  of  day 
translated  to  night  on  the  wharf;  and  the 
city,  covering  that  amphitheater  of  the 
hills,  was  in  silence  and  dreams. 

A  number  of  spectators  were  grouped 
on  the  wharf,  watching  the  labor — as  some 
one  always  watched,  whatever  the  hour. 
Out  of  one  of  these  groups,  while  Dan 
Eank  stood  uncertain,  came  David  Stock- 

117 


The  Outlaws 

ing,  dapper  and  graceful,  smiling  antf 
shrewd  by  night  as  by  day;  always  the 
same. 

"Hello,  my  wrestler!"  he  cried  joy- 
fully. "  Do  you  never  go  to  bed!  " 

The  inquiry  implied  a  species  of  compli- 
ment— new  to  the  countryman,  but  evident. 
There  was  an  imputation  of  superior  qual- 
ity in  men  who  disdained  ordinary  hours. 
Dan  caught  the  inference;  and  some  qual- 
ity in  him  drank  the  flattery  with  delight. 
"  What  are  you  doing  here!  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do!  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Come  here." 

They  walked  a  little  way,  turned  and 
faced  the  busy  scene  at  the  landing,  and 
David  Stocking  presented  a  plan.  It  was 
lawless,  of  course ;  yet  it  was  plausible,  and 
frank  enough.  It  promised  wealth,  and 
that  without  the  laggard  curse  of  wait- 
ing. It  was  big  in  conception,  and  splen- 
did in  possible  achievement.  No  one  could 
118 


Stocking's  Timely  Strategy 

say  he  was  a  petty  rascal.  And  these 
were  very  enticing  times  for  those  who 
dared. 

Besides,  it  was  not  that  unmasked  face 
of  vice  which  "  to  be  hated  needs  but  to  be 
seen."  Yet  under  the  sophistry  Dan  Bank 
saw  the  skeleton  of  a  success  which  Pru- 
dence could  not  share ;  a  triumph  of  which 
he  would  be  ashamed.  It  was  not  what  he 
wanted.  The  kingdoms  of  the  earth  looked 
very  fair  from  the  top  of  this  high  moun- 
tain to  which  his  first  infatuation  for  David 
Stocking  had  taken  him.  He  felt  the  in- 
fluence of  the  man,  and  saw  with  alarm  his 
own  weakness  before  it.  So  he  conjured  up 
again  that  vision  he  had  seen  at  the  bridge 
— and  escaped. 

"  No-h,"  and  he  laughed.  The  winds  of 
blessing  were  already  blowing  across  those 
fields  he  desired,  and  he  waked  in  the 
strength  they  brought. 

"  Better  think  of  it." 

"  I  have — enough." 

Stocking  laughed  easily.  "  Well,  there's 
119 


The  Outlaws 

plenty  of  time.  No  harm  done.  Good 
night." 

"  Not  a  bit.    Good  night." 

And  they  separated. 

He  watched  the  busy  men  a  little  while 
longer,  strolling  nearer,  and  wondering  if 
he  could  find  a  place  among  them.  He 
thought  of  the  journeys  they  must  take,  of 
the  unknown  places  they  would  see,  of  the 
strange  cities  that  stooped  to  the  margin 
of  waterways  where  their  boats  would 
pause.  It  was  the  great  world  inviting, 
and  his  boy  heart  yearned  toward  accep- 
tation. 

The  doors  were  open  behind  him,  and  in 
the  darkness  there  the  torches  flashed  occa- 
sional lances  of  light.  There  were  heaps 
of  merchandise  in  bags ;  and  presently  he 
went  in  with  the  freedom  of  a  countryman, 
and  sat  down.  For  the  weariness  he  had 
forgotten  was  pressing  heavily  upon  him. 
Besides,  he  had  some  thought  of  escaping 
temptation.  He  did  not  believe  Stocking 
would  pursue  that  doubtful  subject;  but 
120 


Stocking's  Timely  Strategy 

here  on  the  bags,  in  the  dark  corner,  he 
was  quite  sure  he  would  not  be  followed. 

All  the  doors  on  the  waterside  were 
open,  and  he  could  watch  the  hurrying, 
busy  toilers.  He  could  hear  the  cries  of 
those  below,  and  the  orders  of  those  on 
shore.  He  leaned  back  on  the  heaps,  and 
enjoyed  it.  When  they  should  be  less  busy 
he  would  approach  one  of  those  who 
seemed  commanding  worlds,  and  offer  his 
services. 

The  tramping,  the  clattering  grind  of 
little  wheels,  the  sound  of  merchandise 
flung  here  for  distribution  and  there  for  re- 
moval, interested  him  greatly.  He  won- 
dered what  was  in  all  these  boxes,  and  what 
sort  of  city  they  had  come  from.  He  won- 
dered whither  that  other  wealth  was  going 
— that  product  of  his  own  land,  which  he 
knew  so  well.  He  tried  in  fancy  to  trace 
it  up  through  those  woods  which  had 
flanked  his  march  as  he  came  from  home, 
beneath  the  little  bridge  over  which  ran  the 
highway  to  "her"  house,  and  to  his — to 
+  121 


The  Outlaws 

the  home  where  mother  and  sisters  and 
loyal  old  father  were  sleeping  now — and  so 
on  to  the  east  and  north  through  a  region 
he  could  only  imagine,  to  a  destination  his 
fancy  could  not  presume  to  construct. 

What  pastimes  had  these  people  1  How 
did  they  live  I  How  were  their  meals  pro- 
vided, and  where  were  their  beds?  Their 
pay,  he  had  heard,  was  ample.  How  much 
could  it  be  I  He  was  drowsily  trying  to  set 
a  figure  which  could  satisfy  all  demands. 

A  packet  of  the  older  type,  one  less 
gorgeous  and  less  fine  in  color,  came  down 
alongside  the  boat  at  the  wharf.  It  was 
crowded  with  people,  and  their  speech  was 
strange.  They  were  mostly  men,  though 
here  and  there  were  women — women  with 
shrill  voices  for  children  who  pushed  for- 
ward for  better  view.  The  speech  of  cap- 
tain and  steersman  and  hands  was  heavy 
and  sharp  in  contrast.  It  made  more  curi- 
ous the  jargon  of  those  who  were  new. 

He  understood  what  it  meant.  Another 
cargo  of  Irish  laborers  for  the  canal  had 
122 


Stocking's  Timely  Strategy 

arrived.  They  came  straight  from  the 
green  island  which  was  no  longer  a  home. 
They  had  tossed  for  weeks  on  the  ocean. 
They  had  been  herded  and  hurried  like 
beasts  through  cities.  They  had  been 
packed  as  slavers  pack  their  cargoes,  and 
had  touched  the  threshold  of  liberty  at 
night. 

No  wonder  they  seemed  strange.  No 
wonder  there  was  an  air  almost  of  sav- 
agery about  them.  No  wonder  those  men 
fought  as  they  clung  to  points  of  vantage, 
striking  blows  which  shocked  the  country- 
man, yet  abandoning  contention  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  fraternizing  again. 

He  sat  still  and  watched  them  as  they 
crowded  ashore,  as  they  thronged  over  the 
'freight-boat  and  scrambled  to  the  ground — 
individualists,  forgetting  comrades  and 
friends ;  barbarians  again  in  ignoring  fam- 
ily ties.  Yet  the  matrons  preserved  the 
mother  quality  which  holds  through  all  the 
races,  which  is  revealed  in  the  beasts  and 
is  blessed  in  women.  They  brought  their 
9  123 


The  Outlaws 

little  ones,  ragged,  half  asleep,  and  wholly 
startling,  to  the  shore ;  and  all  were  round- 
ed up  and  driven  down  the  dock  to  the  south 
by  a  big,  dark  man  who  seemed  to  have 
waited  for  them.  And  the  work  of  loading 
and  unloading  went  on. 

The  young  man  who  had  watched  them 
from  the  shore  found  the  picture  that  suc- 
ceeded less  attractive.  He  saw  the  torches, 
and  the  shapes  of  men  speeding  up  one 
gangplank  or  down  the  other.  He  heard 
the  shouts  of  masters  growing  lower,  and 
less  intelligible.  He  heard  a  tramping  in 
measured  cadence  far  down  the  valley,  and 
he  thought  of  the  Irish,  marching  to  their 
homes.  It  was  not  a  mud-pervaded  hill- 
side they  approached,  but  an  ancient  coun- 
try ;  and  the  shores  were  green.  And  there 
were  those  on  the  grassy  hillsides  who 
reached  hands  of  welcome  to  crowding  emi- 
grants returned. 

Dan  Rank  was  sound  asleep.  He  had 
found  a  day  of  work  in  the  clearing,  a  night 
of  trudging  the  miles  from  home,  and  the 
124 


Stocking's  Timely  Strategy 

comfort  of  an  improvised  couch  too  much 
for  his  hold  on  consciousness;  and  he 
lapsed  into  dreams  that  were  lighted  with 
the  visions  which  unusual  scenes  could 
paint. 

Then,  it  seemed  in  a  twinkling  of  time, 
there  was  daylight  all  about  him.  The 
doors  toward  the  canal  were  closed.  The 
whole  warehouse  portion  was  deserted  and 
still.  But  new  sounds  and  a  new  activity 
impressed  him.  At  the  east,  in  the  street, 
he  could  hear  the  noise  of  many  wheels,  and 
the  talk  of  men  whom  he  could  not  see.  He 
tried  to  find  a  way  of  escape.  The  doors 
could  be  opened  from  the  inner  side,  but 
they  were  bolted ;  and  he  had  a  native's  in- 
stinct that  he  should  not  go  out  and  leave 
them  unsecured.  He  was  moving  about, 
much  troubled,  when  a  clerk  at  one  of  the 
offices  in  front — the  side  to  the  east,  and 
the  street — spied  him,  and  leaped  to  give 
an  alarm.  There  was  commotion  in  the 
counting-room.  There  was  a  summoning 
of  truckmen  and  loiterers  about  the  door. 
125 


The  Outlaws 

There  was  a  call  which  clearly  meant  an 
appeal  to  the  officers  of  the  law;  for  the 
fear  of  outlaws  was  on  all  men. 

And  the  young  fellow  was  half  caught 
by  a  panic.  He  realized  from  the  stand- 
point of  an  honest  man  that  he  should  not 
have  been  there,  that  he  had  taken  an  un- 
warranted liberty;  that  his  presence  was 
prima  facie  evidence  of  unlawful  intent. 
And  he  tried  to  think  what  was  his  best 
justification. 

He  looked  wildly  this  way  and  that,  and 
then  started  to  do  the  right  and  honest — 
and  dangerous — thing.  He  started  frank- 
ly— maybe  a  little  hurriedly,  for  he  was  in 
confusion — toward  the  counting-room,  to 
explain. 

"  Here  they  come ! "  shouted  the  clerk. 

"  They  are  all  coming  this  way !  "  yelled 
a  second,  naturally  louder  and  in  more 
startling  tones. 

"  Shut  the  safe,"  screamed  a  strident, 
terrified  voice  from  the  sidewalk.    "  Come 
on,  you  fellows.    Surround  them." 
126 


Stocking's  Timely  Strategy 

There  was  such  a  shouting,  such  a 
clamor  and  excitement,  that  poor  Dan 
Rank  could  not  make  himself  heard.  It 
seemed  a  picking  up  of  that  charge  which 
Judge  Evans  had  launched  at  him — and  it 
appalled  him  like  unexpected  evidence.  If 
it  had  not  been  for  that  sting  of  an  earlier 
thrust,  he  probably  would  have  surren- 
dered, told  his  story,  and  trusted  them  to 
be  just  and  generous.  But  a  sudden 
thought  came  that  arrest  now,  with  that 
other  stain  upon  his  reputation,  would  be 
fatal.  He  knew  he  was  really  in  a  com- 
promising position,  and  it  would  confirm 
the  vague  charge  of  criminality  at  his  home. 
He  dared  not  be  arrested. 

He  thought  of  dashing  through  their 
line  of  timorous  advance.  They  were 
afraid  of  him,  anyway.  But  a  glance  at 
the  street  showed  the  wider  doors  there 
were  full  of  men,  and  that  more  were  strug- 
gling into  view. 

A  club  was  hurled;  but  it  came  from 
the  lighted  side,  and  he  dodged  it.  Then 
127 


The  Outlaws 

the  clerk  flung  a  hatchet ;  and  as  the  deadly 
weapon  sung  past  his  lowered  head,  the 
spur  of  anger  aroused  him,  and  he  watched 
for  reprisal.  A  mighty  fellow  ran  toward 
him,  encouraged  by  cries  from  the  crowd — 
a  handler  of  barrels  and  bales  and  boxes, 
with  great  shoulders,  and  a  round  head 
dipped  forward.  There  was  the  self-con- 
trol of  the  practised  fighter  in  his  bearing, 
and  the  confidence  of  a  victor  in  his  eyes. 

He  struck,  with  the  murderous  flaming 
of  small  eyes,  and  the  silent  compression 
of  thin  lips.  But  he  came  too  close,  and 
the  agile  countryman  dodged  and  grap- 
pled. 

They  were  locked  for  an  instant  in  a 
tight  embrace,  and  in  the  next  Dan  Rank 
was  free  again.  For  the  handler  of  barrels 
and  boxes  and  bales  went  as  trifles  go,  and 
struck  the  heaps  of  freight,  and  lay  there 
—still. 

Then  Dan  Rank  whirled,  frightened  to 
the  point  of  screaming — not  by  the  peril, 
but  by  the  panic  of  his  compromising — and 
128 


Stocking's  Timely  Strategy 

darted  to  the  doors.  He  was  through, 
though  they  opened  but  the  smallest  of 
cracks,  and  fled  like  a  frightened  deer. 

They  must  have  mistaken  the  direction 
he  took.  A  well-dressed  man,  who  seemed 
to  be  a  sailor,  was  there  on  the  wharf ;  and 
he  darted  north,  leading  them,  directing 
them  with  shouts  and  pointings.  They 
searched  the  canal-boats  packed  side  by 
side.  They  inquired.  They  were  con- 
fused, bewildered.  They  hunted  to  the 
river,  and  among  the  craft  there. 

But  Dan  Bank  sped  down  the  valley  to 
the  south,  and  did  not  look  back. 


129 


CHAPTER  XI 

JARED'S  SADDLE  FOUND 

JARED  CARUTH  did  not  hesitate  a  mo- 
ment when  Clark  Thompson  bade  him 
bring  his  saddle. 

"  It's  broke,  sheriff,  and  I  ain't  had  no 
time  to  mend  it.  It's  split  right  across  the 
tree,  and  I  reckon " 

"Then  leave  it.  We'll  get  a  saddle 
where  we  find  a  horse." 

They  were  at  Absalom  Rank's  place, 
and  met  the  farmer  on  his  way  to  that 
"  clearing "  which  was  becoming  a  land- 
mark in  the  side  of  his  life  where  acres  and 
labors  are  not  reckoned. 

"I  want  a  man  here,  Absalom,"  said 
the  sheriff.  "I'm  raising  a  posse  to  get 
after  horse-thieves.  They've  got  to  keep 
out  of  my  county.  Either  you  or  Dan  will 
do." 

130 


JarecTs  Saddle  Found 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  can  git  away,  but " 

"  Let  Dan  go.  It  will  be  hard  riding, 
and  he'll  stand  it  better." 

"Well-  Why,  the  truth  is,  I  don't 
think  Dan  is  here." 

The  troubled  man  was  in  the  quandary 
of  his  life.  It  was  bitter  enough  when  he 
fought  alone.  It  was  grief  unutterable 
when  disclosed. 

"  Isn't  here !    Where  is  he !  " 

"  Well,  I  really  don't  know." 

"  He  was  here  all  night,  wasn't  he?  " 

"  Well,  no— not  all  night." 

"Didn't  he  come  home  from  Judge 
Evans's  place?" 

"  No,  I  don't  think  he  did.  But  I  can 
go  with  you.  It  don't  make  any  difference, 
and  I  bet  you  won't  have  a  man  stand  the 
ride,  or  anything  else,  any  better  than  I 
do,  sheriff." 

He  had  started  with  nervous  alacrity  to 
the  stable,  where  Selim  was  standing  and 
begging  to  requite  with  much  good  running 
the  absence  of  his  young  master. 
131 


The  Outlaws 

"  Yes,  but  how  about  Dan? "  asked  the 
sheriff.  "  Where  is  he,  Absalom!  How  do 
you  account  for  his  being  away  from 
home?  This  is  two  nights,  you  know." 

The  old  man  stopped.  He  looked  at  the 
ground,  pushing  about  a  bit  of  wood  with 
his  foot,  and  then  stooping  to  pick  it  up 
and  examine  it,  as  if  the  fiber  would  point 
a  way  out  of  this  dilemma.  But  there  was 
no  escape. 

"  'Tis  curious,"  Jared  Caruth  chirruped 
cheerily.  "Ain't  coon-hunting,  is  he, 
Abe?" 

Phil  Whitesell  took  on  the  absorbed  ex- 
pression which  always  clothed  him  like  a 
garment  when  he  saw  even  the  smallest  op- 
portunity to  introduce  his  ghosts. 

"  Looks  bad,  Bank,"  resumed  the  sher- 
iff. 

Absalom  turned  to  the  little  group  that 
waited,  weighing  him. 

"I  don't  care  how  it  looks,"  he  said 
stoutly.  "And  I  don't  want  no  shiftless 
fiddlers  making  slurs.  Dan  ain't  home,  and 
132 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

I  don't  know  where  he  is.  But  wherever  he 
is,  he  is  attending  to  his  own  business.  And 
he  ain't  done  no  wrong,  and  you  know  it — 
now ! " 

"  Absalom,  I  don't  think  I'll  take  you  in 
this  posse.  You  might  not  be  the  most  val- 
uable man  in  the  world.  Good  morning." 

It  was  long  after  they  had  gone  that  the 
farmer  started  from  that  attitude.  As  they 
left  him,  so  he  stood.  It  was  a  blow  for 
which  he  had  no  guard;  and  it  meant  not 
only  accusation  against  his  boy,  but  impli- 
cation for  himself,  who  had  known  no  rule 
of  conduct  in  life  but  the  keeping  of  those 
children  in  right  ways  and  the  building  of 
substance  for  them.  He  wandered  about 
the  stacks  and  sheds,  and  Selim  whinnied 
his  consolation.  The  girls  saw  him,  and 
knew  his  trouble.  They  linked  it  at  once 
with  Dan's  absence,  an  incident  they  could 
not  understand. 

And  presently  he  roused  enough  to  turn 
back  to  the  woods  where  he  trimmed  the 
fires  and  swung  his  ax,  and  labored  alone. 
133 


The  Outlaws 

The  blessing  of  work  came  to  him  slowly, 
and  he  breathed  a  little  prayer  of  thanks- 
giving, and  bent  to  harder  toil.  And  at  the 
end  of  the  day  his  headlong  haste  and  tire- 
less energy  had  wrought  a  vast  amount  of 
accomplishment.  He  tried  to  be  proud  of 
it  as  he  turned  from  the  clearing ;  but  the 
pain  of  that  wound  at  the  morning  came 
back  with  the  respite  from  toil.  The  load 
was  as  heavy  when  he  turned  at  the  call  of 
the  supper-bell,  and  gave  up  his  tasks  in 
the  gathering  dusk. 

The  girls  had  done  all  they  could  to 
comfort  him.  It  was  not  with  the  sense  of 
relieving  him  of  duties  that  they  fed  the 
stock,  and  closed  the  round  of  "  chores  "  at 
the  barn.  It  was  simply  that,  out  of  their 
loving  hearts,  they  wanted  him,  stricken  as 
he  was,  to  understand  their  care  for  him, 
and — in  spite  of  their  own  suffering — their 
sympathy. 

Jared  Caruth  was  urgently  in  favor  of 
striking  across  to  the  higher  country,  away 
from  the  valley.  The  straight  road  would 
134 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

have  been  along  the  corduroys,  past  that 
swamp  region  back  of  Jared's  house — the 
corduroy  way  that  held  to  the  valley.  But 
the  man  argued  for  another  and  a  more 
roundabout  course.  He  presented  many 
reasons,  and  made  them  plausible.  The 
farmers  up  there  back  of  the  valley  had 
suffered  more  seriously  from  the  raids  of 
outlaws.  They  would  go  farther,  and  could 
be  counted  on  for  more  energy  in  an  en- 
counter. They  were  more  given  to  hunt- 
ing than  were  the  men  in  the  bottom  lands. 
The  latter  had  passed  more  clearly  to  the 
stage  of  farmers,  and  would  not  shoot  well. 
Jared  quite  indorsed  the  word  of  the  sher- 
iff that  this  must  be  a  war  of  extermina- 
tion. 

Clark  Thompson  was  glad  to  have  the 
assistance  of  a  man  who  entered  so  wholly 
into  his  plans — who  was  so  quick  to  second 
his  efforts,  and  so  ready  with  any  kind  of 
help.  As  they  turned  into  the  main  road 
again,  Jared  mentioned  the  fact  that  Bill 
Anderson  was  out  after  foxes. 
135 


The  Outlaws 

"  He  went  over  to  the  beech  woods  this 
morning,"  said  the  sheriff's  assistant. 
"  He  says  he's  been  losing  chickens  all  win- 
ter, and  he's  going  to  dig  the  varmints 
out." 

He  peered  over  there  toward  the  thick- 
ets in  the  lowlands — occasional  islands  in 
the  swampy  region — and  finally  declared 
he  heard  the  yelp  of  Anderson's  hounds. 

"He  better  be  makin'  a  new  sermon; 
but  if  he  ain't  doin'  that,  he  might  as  well 
be  with  us,"  said  Jared.  "  He's  a  gritty 
little  feller,  and  he'd  help  powerful  if  we 
got  into  trouble.  I'll  go  fetch  him." 

"  Tell  him  to  meet  us  at  the  ford,"  called 
Clark  Thompson.  "  I'll  go  up  here  to  the 
Bacon  place.  Mebby  those  boys  can  tell 
me  something  about  Dan  Eank.  And  any- 
way, I  will  get  a  horse  there  for  you." 

He  heard  Jared  Caruth  shouting: 

"  Yes — huntin'  horse-thieves.  Go  over 
to  Rank's,  and  borry  his  Selim  colt — and 
hurry  up." 

Then  a  pause.  The  sheriff  could  hear 
136 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

no  reply.  But  then  he  was  not  so  near  the 
swamp  as  was  Jared.  And  presently  the  lat- 
ter lifted  his  voice  even  clearer  than  before, 
still  shouting  toward  the  Sand  Islands : 

"  Clark  Thompson  —  sheriff — posse — 
hurry ! " 

The  sheriff  saw  him  turn  back  and 
stride  placidly  toward  the  ford.  He  was 
waiting  there  when  Phil  Whitesell  rode  up ; 
and  the  man  of  specters  eyed  him  suspi- 
ciously. 

"  I  thought  you  said  Bill  Anderson  was 
digging  out  foxes  in  the  beech  woods,  Ja- 
red," he  said. 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  you  was  yelling  right  away 
from  the  beech  woods.  You  was  yellin'  at 
the  Sand  Islands." 

"I  thought  I  seen  him  crossin'  there, 
goin'  home,"  was  the  ready  rejoinder.  "  I 
don't  suppose,  Philip  " — Jared  was  always 
formal  in  his  cudgelings — "that  Mr.  An- 
derson is  going  to  dig  all  day  and  all  night. 
He's  bound  to  go  home  sometime." 
137 


The  Outlaws 

But  the  blow  did  not  crush  Philip. 

"  You  seen  him  cross  the  swamps !  " 

"Yes.  Didn't  you,  Mr.  Whitesell? 
Your  eyes  are  failing.  I  suppose  Maria 
has  scratched  them." 

"Well,  Bill  Anderson  wasn't  in  the 
swamp." 

"  Wasn't  he,  Philip?    Where  was  he?  " 

Phil  pointed,  by  way  of  reply,  to  the 
path  up  the  ridge  toward  the  Bacon  home- 
stead; and  there  came  the  little  preacher, 
mounted,  and  leading  a  second  horse  all 
saddled  and  bridled — a  steed  for  the  trap- 
per himself.  Clearly  the  visit  to  the  Bacon 
homestead  had  paid.  For  close  behind 
came  Clark  Thompson,  with  one  of  the 
widow's  sons — her  eldest — at  his  side, 
proud  of  his  position,  ambitious  in  the  mis- 
sion, and  armed  for  conflict  with  a  long- 
barreled  and  very  heavy  squirrel  rifle. 

"  Then  who  did  I  see  in  the  swamps, 
I  wonder  ?  "  mused  Jared  pensively ;  and 
there  was  no  admission  of  attempt  to  de- 
ceive. 

138 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

As  the  four  horses  came  out  on  the 
main  road  at  the  river  ford,  Selim,  still 
observant  from  the  barnyard  of  the  Bank 
place,  whinnied  loudly  his  pleading  to  be 
taken  along — his  volunteered  service  for 
the  clearing  of  the  family  'scutcheon. 

That  afternoon  they  crossed  half  the 
county  from  north  to  south,  plunging 
through  the  woods  to  the  right  and  the  left 
of  the  main  course,  warning  out  the  set- 
tlers, and  summoning  men  here  and  there 
to  join  the  posse. 

They  rode  fast  and  far  on  the  track  of 
a  hurrying  band,  and  came  upon  the  enemy 
one  evening  at  the  edge  of  a  wood,  just  as 
the  outlaws  were  rousing  for  the  night 
journey  which  should  take  them  beyond  the 
fear  of  pursuit. 

And  three  were  captured. 

This  was  the  manner  of  it. 

There  was  a  fairly  good  farm,   the 

woods  close  to  the  house  at  one  side,  and 

a  strawstack  at  the  edge  of  the  woods — a 

strawstack  heaped  on  a  skeleton  of  poles, 

10  139 


The  Outlaws 

and  forming  a  warm  shed  where  cattle  had 
wintered. 

The  farmer  was  chopping  wood  at  the 
side  of  his  house,  and  Clark  Thompson 
asked  him,  as  he  did  all  other  men  he  en- 
countered, if  he  had  seen  strangers  with 
horses. 

"  I  hain't  seen  nobody,"  was  the  reply. 
But  it  was  not  quite  frank.  It  lacked  a 
quality  the  sheriff  thought  it  should  pos- 
sess. It  was  as  if  he  had  expected  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  Been  feeding  any  one  lately1?  " 

"  No — only  my  own  family." 

"  How  many  are  there  in  your  family!  " 

"  Just  me  and  my  wife." 

"  Got  any  visitors  !  " 

"  Nope — not  now." 

The  man  was  uneasy,  and  on  the  de- 
fensive. 

The  sheriff  dismounted,  and  kicked 
about  some  refuse  from  the  kitchen. 

"  Seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "  your  family 
is  eating  a  good  many  potatoes  and  chick- 
140 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

ens.  Look  at  these  parings,  and  feathers. 
We  will  go  through  your  place,  if  you  don't 
mind.  Jared,  take  four  men,  and  watch 
the  house.  Boys,  come  on.  This  looks 
good." 

He  approached  the  straw-shed  with 
some  hope.  The  trail  of  those  hoofs  he  had 
followed  led  down  to  the  woods,  then  wound 
about  and  came  back  straight  to  the  door 
of  the  stable.  Four  horses  were  standing 
side  by  side  in  the  shelter,  all  fed  and  rest- 
ed. And  beside  them,  grooming  them,  were 
two  men — strangers  to  the  valley. 

"  Good  evening,"  said  the  sheriff,  as  he 
walked  unhesitatingly  to  the  wide  door. 

They  made  no  reply.  Behind  him,  in 
the  narrow  strip  of  land  between  the  shed 
and  the  forest,  they  saw  his  posse  with 
guns. 

"What  do  you  want?"  demanded  one 
of  the  strangers. 

"I  think  I  want  you,"  was  the  reply. 
"  Come  out,  and  get  acquainted  with  some 
friends  of  mine." 

141 


The  Outlaws 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  I  am  the  sheriff.    Who  are  you?  " 

The  second  man  spoke — and  angrily : 

"  We  own  this  farm,  and  you  better  get 
off." 

"  The  man  that  owns  this  farm  is  chop- 
ping wood  up  by  the  house — or  there  is  a 
liar  on  the  place.  You  boys  come  out  here." 

They  came,  slowly  and  surlily.  They 
were  fine  figures,  with  better  clothes  than 
the  men  gathered  about.  They  looked  over 
that  posse,  and  recognized  the  hard  propo- 
sition which  criminals  know — that  farm- 
ers, unused  to  man-hunts,  are  the  most  dan- 
gerous of  all  pursuers.  They  do  not  know 
the  peril  imposed  by  desperadoes,  and 
promptly  take  chances  from  which  a  prac- 
tised officer  would  recoil. 

"  Where  are  you  from?  "  demanded  the 
sheriff  stoutly;  "and  where  did  you  get 
those  horses?  "  He  was  master  now. 

"  We  bought  them." 

"  How  many  of  you  are  here  ?  " 

"  We  two." 

142 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

Both  spoke  at  once — and  quickly. 

"Put  out  your  hands.  Boys,  scatter 
around  this  shed.  This  isn't  all  of  them." 

"  Don't  handcuff  us,  Mr.  Sheriff.  We 
will  go  quietly,"  said  one. 

"  Put  out  your  hands !  " 

The  command  was  not  to  be  disobeyed. 
The  big  irons  were  locked  on  their  wrists. 

"  Now,  you  are  safe.  Phil,  watch  them. 
If  they  run — you  shoot." 

"If  they  run,"  said  Phil  solemnly, 
"  there'll  be  ghosts,  sure." 

The  sheriff  peered  into  the  cavernous 
depths  of  the  shed,  and  shouted : 

"  Come  out  of  there.  I'm  going  to  set 
this  strawstack  on  fire."  Then,  toward  the 
house :  "  Jared,  fetch  some  coals." 

Jared  brought  a  shovelful  from  the  fire- 
place in  the  little  house;  but  the  farmer 
hurried  before  him,  pleading  and  con- 
trite. 

"  Don't  burn  my  shed,  sheriff,"  he 
begged.  "  Two  is  all  tha  is.  Oh,  I  done 
wrong — but  how  could  I  help  it?  I  was 
143 


The  Outlaws 

afraid  of  them — and  they  paid  me  money. 
Don't  burn  my  shed." 

"  Go  in  there,  and  lead  out  the  horses." 
The  words  were  low,  inaudible  half  a  dozen 
paces  away.  "  The  fellows  who  are  hidden 
will  think  you  are  one  of  us,  and  shoot.  I 
want  to  save  my  men." 

But  the  farmer  went  headlong  into  the 
shed. 

"  Tha  ain't  no  more  men  here,"  he  said 
loudly. 

He  brought  out  the  horses — four  fine 
animals,  not  much  jaded ;  but  he  was  great- 
ly terrified.  He  glanced  apprehensively  at 
Jared  Caruth,  blowing  on  the  coals  to  keep 
them  alive. 

"  Don't  burn  me  out,  sheriff,"  he  plead- 
ed. "  I  didn't  dare  do  anything  else.  I 
never  stole  a  horse  in  my  life.  I  never 
harmed  no  one." 

His  wife  hurried  from  the  house  to 
strengthen  his  argument. 

"  We've  just  got  started,  sheriff,"  she 
said.  "  It's  pretty  hard  to  make  a  home  in 
144 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

the  woods,  anyhow.     You  ain't  goin'  to 
set  our  stable  on  fire — I  know  you  ain't." 

"  I  want  the  rest  of  these  outlaws,"  was 
the  calm  rejoinder  of  the  officer.  "  I'm  tired 
of  having  horse-stealing  in  my  county. 
There  are  more  than  these  two.  Where  are 
they?" 

"Then,  I'll  tell  you,"  she  cried.  "I 
won't  be  burned  out  of  house  and  home — 
not  for  no  one.  And  if  they  come  back  and 
murder  us,  it  ain't  my  fault.  The  other 
man  went  straight  west — right  after  they 
et  their  dinner.  He's  goin'  to  ketch  a  boat 
at  the  locks." 

She  was  excited,  and  spoke  in  a  high, 
shrill  voice,  motioning  in  the  direction  in- 
dicated, and  urging  the  attention  of  all  to 
the  woods. 

"He's  goin'  to  ketch  a  packet  at  the 
locks,"  she  repeated.  "  He's  goin'  back 
east." 

The  day  was  darkening,  but  the  posse 
hurried  to  examine  the  ground  at  the  edge 
of  the  woods. 

145 


The  Outlaws 

"  I  can  most  see  his  tracks,"  said  Jared ; 
and  the  outlaws  made  no  comment. 

"Yes,  sir,  sheriff — at  the  locks,"  re- 
sumed the  woman.  "  But  don't  you  f oiler, 
for  he's  got  pistols  and  knives.  It  was 
him  made  me  kill  my  chickens,  and  peel 
my  potatoes,  and  git  up  a  dinner.  Yes, 
sir." 

"  Jared,  you  and  Abe  Rhinehart  take 
these  two  men  to  town  and  lock  them  up. 
Here  is  the  key  to  their  handcuffs.  I'll  be 
there  in  a  day  or  two.  Tell  my  jailer  who 
they  are,  and  he'll  keep  them.  And,  my 
good  woman,  I  wouldn't  burn  a  stick  nor  a 
straw  on  your  farm — not  for  twenty  horses. 
And  if  we  catch  that  fellow  at  the  canal,  I'll 
send  a  calico  dress  to  you.  Hurry  up, 
boys." 

The  two  were  handcuffed  together,  and 
a  rope  was  passed  back  from  the  shackles, 
and  carried  by  Jared.  Ehinehart  made 
sure  his  long  rifle  was  ready  for  instant 
action,  and  then  the  two  keepers  mounted ; 
and  the  two  prisoners,  without  the  shadow 
146 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

of  objection,  started  ahead  on  the  ten-mile 
tramp  to  the  county  seat. 

Down  the  hill  they  went,  and  across  the 
creek,  knee-deep  in  water,  and  out  at  the 
farther  side.  It  was  forest  nearly  all  the 
way,  and  not  unpleasant  footing.  Jared 
was  inclined  to  push  the  pace. 

"  When  we  git  these  fellers  locked  up, 
we  can  go  home,"  he  said.  "  I'm  tired  nigh 
about  to  death,  and  I  want  to  sleep  in  a  bed, 
and  git  up  for  buckwheat  cakes  and  ham 
gravy." 

It  brought  up  a  picture  which  his  com- 
panion would  have  been  glad  to  realize. 

"  Hurry  up,  there,"  he  cried;  for  one  of 
the  prisoners  was  lagging  and  laughing  a 
little. 

"  All  right,  captain,"  replied  one.  "  We 
are  going  as  fast  as  we  can.  Remember 
you  are  on  horses." 

"  Yes,  and  they  are  our  own  horses," 
was  the  tart  rejoinder.  "  We  didn't  steal 
them." 

"  Neither  did  we." 
147 


The  Outlaws 

"  No,  but  you  would  if  you  had  a  chance. 
Step  up  there." 

They  had  gone  over  a  mile  of  wind- 
ing road,  and  the  captives  were  walking 
with  bodies  bent  forward,  and  heads  close 
together.  They  smiled  and  whispered,  then 
glanced  back. 

"What  you  laughing  at?"  demanded 
Jared. 

"  Was  I  laughing?  "  asked  one. 

"  Yes.  You'll  find  this  ain't  so  very 
funny." 

"  No,  that's  so.    And  yet  it  tickled  me." 

"What  did!" 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  tell  you.  My 
friend  here  and  me  didn't  want  to  get  into 
the  horse-stealing  business,  but  the  leader 
back  there  in  the  straw-shed  forced  us  to. 
We  are  done  with  all  this  sort  of  thing, 
and  are  glad  to  get  out  of  it — no  matter 
what  you  people  do  with  us." 

"  What  leader  you  talking  about?  What 
straw-shed?  " 

Ehinehart  was  impressed  with  the  evi- 
148 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

dent  fairness  of  speech.  It  appealed  to 
him.  But  he  caught  another  note.  He  had 
to  repeat  his  query.  "  What  leader  you 
talking  about?" 

"Well,  it  isn't  any  more  than  right, 
since  we  are  going  to  quit  this  sort  of  life, 
to  tell  you.  Our  leader  is  hiding  back  there 
in  the  strawstack." 

"What— whoa!"  The  words  leaped 
from  Rhinehart's  lips. 

"That's  the  truth;  and  if  the  sheriff 
had  set  that  straw  on  fire  he  would  have 
caught  the  worst  outlaw  in  the  Wabash  val- 
ley." 

The  little  cavalcade  had  halted. 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  that  before!  " 

"  How  could  we  ?  I  told  you  as  soon  as 
I  dared.  He's  back  there  in  the  straw,  and 
that  woman  has  saved  him  by  sending  your 
sheriff  on  a  wild-goose  chase  to  the  lock." 

"Jared,"  said  Ehinehart,  "you  take 
these  fellows  to  jail.  Good-by." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  the 
more  loquacious  of  the  outlaws. 
149 


The  Outlaws 

"  I'm  going  back  to  that  shed." 

"  Don't  do  it.  Cut  across,  and  head  off 
your  sheriff.  Take  him  back  to  the  shed 
with  you.  You'll  need  him.  Don't  go  back 
alone." 

"All  right;  I'll  get  the  sheriff." 

He  turned  his  horse  about,  gripped  his 
long  rifle,  leaned  down,  and  galloped  into 
the  forest  shadows.  His  last  sight  of  the 
captives  showed  him  two  men  plodding 
steadily  forward  again,  and  their  keeper 
riding  watchfully  behind. 

"  Is  he  gone  I  "  asked  one  of  the  pris- 
oners. 

"  He's  gone,"  replied  Jared. 

"  Then  unfasten  these  things.  They  are 
hurting  my  wrists." 

The  horseman  swung  down  from  his 
mount,  and  set  them  free. 

"  Now,  smash  that  lock  with  a  stone," 
said  the  talkative  outlaw.  "  You  can  carry 
it  back,  and  tell  them  we  forced  it." 

"  I  ought  to  carry  something  else  back," 
Jared  chirruped  blithely. 
150 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

"  You  mean  money?  " 

"Yes.  I  need  a  few  things  at  the 
house." 

"Well,  you  have  earned  it — if  that 
friend  of  yours  don't  go  straight  back  to 
the  shed.  But  don't  ask  for  too  much. 
Here's  enough  to  last  you." 

He  counted  out  some  bills,  and  placed 
them  in  the  nervous  hand  that  battered  the 
lock. 

"  There  is  another  thing  you  had  bet- 
ter carry  back,  Caruth,"  suggested  the 
stolid  outlaw. 

"  What's  that!  "  with  anticipation. 

"  A  scar  or  two." 

It  was  a  full  minute  before  the  signifi- 
cance penetrated  the  brain  of  the  native. 
The  stolid  one  continued: 

"  You  have  to  explain  that  we  turned 
upon  you,  and  that  you  fought,  and  that  we 
overpowered  you.  If  you  ain't  scratched 
up,  no  one  will  believe  you." 

It  was  a  trying  ordeal,  for  the  shiftless 
fellow  shrunk  from  pain;  but  there  were 
151 


The  Outlaws 

strong  reasons,  and  he  submitted — though 
his  submission  was  of  little  consequence  to 
them.  It  is  possible  that  the  two  men 
found  some  satisfaction  in  providing  cor- 
roborative evidence  for  his  story.  It  is 
probable  Jared  felt  they  were  using  him 
with  unnecessary  roughness.  He  quite 
pitied  himself  when  he  found  his  face 
bleeding,  his  clothes  torn,  and  his  hands 
scratched.  But  when  they  finally  ceased 
their  manhandling,  and  stood  back  to  view 
their  work,  there  is  no  kind  of  doubt  they 
regarded  it  as  thoroughly  done. 

Jared  Caruth's  story  would  certainly 
be  supported  by  evidence. 

The  chief  of  the  outlaws  crept  out  of  the 
straw  farthest  from  the  stable  door.  He 
had  burrowed  straight  through;  and  he 
was  dusty  and  hot  as  he  emerged,  half 
smothered,  into  the  air. 

For  a  moment  he  lay  there,  watching. 
Then  the  farmer  and  his  wife,  still  in  an 
agony  of  fear,  walked  past  him  on  their 
way  to  the  house. 

152 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

"  Now,  get  out !  "  exclaimed  the  woman. 
"You'll  get  us  burned  up  and  murdered 
yet.  Oh,  hurry,  and  run  away." 

"  Be  still,"  replied  the  outlaw,  panting 
and  trying  to  dislodge  the  chaff  and  straw 
that  had  penetrated  under  his  clothing. 
"  Get  me  food  to  carry  with  me — quick." 

"  No,  get  out  now,"  insisted  the  woman 
a  little  louder.  She  was  on  the  verge  of 
frantic  outcry;  and  of  that  he  was  most 
afraid.  He  swore  at  her,  undaunted  by  her 
husband,  and  crept  on  hands  and  knees 
down  the  hill  toward  the  thickets. 

He  had  been  very  fortunate  indeed. 
The  two  best  horses  he  had  ever  stolen 
were  overlooked  by  that  roused  sheriff 
and  his  discourteous  posse,  and  were  still 
among  the  willows  where  he  had  hidden 
them. 

As  soon  as  he  was  safe  in  the  shelter  of 
the  woods  he  rose  and  ran  forward.  He 
had  no  present  fear  of  the  sheriff's  return. 
That  woman  had  done  her  work  well.  But 
the  county  was  suddenly  unsafe,  and  he 
153 


The  Outlaws 

must  make  a  night  ride  of  the  hardest  if  he 
would  escape. 

The  horses  were  there,  saddled  and 
bridled — strong  from  the  day's  rest.  They 
had  gone  many  miles  in  their  roundabout 
race  from  their  home  to  this  point ;  but  they 
had  fed  this  day,  and  were  ready. 

Yet,  before  he  could  lead  them  to  the 
road  there  was  a  rush  of  men  upon  him. 
It  seemed  they  came  from  every  direction. 
He  knew  then  the  sheriff  had  not  been 
deceived,  and  had  simply  employed  a 
ruse  to  effect  the  capture  without  having 
to  burn  the  stable.  The  outlaw  aban- 
doned one  horse,  leaped  to  the  back  of 
the  other,  and  dashed  headlong  into  the 
highway. 

In  spite  of  them,  in  spite  of  their  shout- 
ing, and  the  rifle-shots  which  by  a  miracle 
killed  none  of  their  own  party,  he  was 
through  their  line,  and  had  just  bent  for 
flight  to  liberty  when  he  ran  without  warn- 
ing heavily  against  the  galloping  horse  of 
Abe  Ehinehart ;  and  in  another  moment  he 
154 


Jared's  Saddle  Found 

was  rolling  on  the  ground  held  tight  in  the 
embrace  of  those  veteran  arms. 

"Pretty  good  work,"  said  the  sheriff 
later,  when  their  last  prisoner  was  bound 
and  helpless.  "  These  are  Judge  Evans's 
four-year-olds.  But  there  is  one  thing 
strapped  on  this  horse  that  I  want  you  men 
to  come  and  see." 

They  went  in  a  group,  and  looked. 

But  one  thing  was  strapped  on  the 
horse. 

That  was  Jared  Caruth's  saddle. 


11  155 


CHAPTER   XII 

DAN   COMES  TO   COMMAND 

FOR  the  first  mile  of  his  flight  Dan 
Bank's  sole  purpose  was  to  escape  the 
racing  crowd  of  townspeople  who  had  ac- 
cused him  of  felony.  Under  this  motive 
was  the  one  dominant  thought  in  the  coun- 
tryman's mind — the  fear  of  an  officer;  the 
dread  of  arrest,  the  odium  of  imprison- 
ment. It  is  an  attribute  of  the  free,  a  qual- 
ity of  the  independent. 

But  when  he  knew  there  was  no  pur- 
suit, he  went  on  more  slowly,  and  presently 
he  heard,  down  the  valley,  the  sound  of 
axes,  and  the  shouts  of  many  men.  As  he 
crossed  the  hill,  and  neared  an  opening  in 
the  woods,  he  saw  groups  of  workers,  and 
knew  he  had  come  upon  one  of  the  camps 
where  imported  laborers  were  disturbing 
156 


Dan  Comes  to  Command 

the  earth,  and  building  a  canal.  He  went 
nearer,  and  sat  down. 

There  was  a  big  man,  black  of  whisker 
and  broad  of  shoulder,  standing  on  the 
highest  point,  and  directing  with  much 
strongly  expressed  profanity  the  labors  of 
a  hundred  workers  below.  These  were 
busy  with  picks  and  shovels ;  with  dump- 
carts  drawn  by  oxen,  and  with  many  wheel- 
barrows. They  were  scooping  out  the 
channel  through  the  little  hills,  and  pushing 
the  material  into  right  and  left  banks  for 
their  eanal,  farther  ahead.  They  were 
working  in  mud  and  water,  and  they  toiled, 
when  spurred  by  the  oath-inspired  fore- 
man, with  such  diligence  as  they  had  never 
known  before. 

Many  of  these  were  the  newcomers 
whom  Dan  had  seen  on  the  landing  last 
night.  Many  more,  their  bundles  still  about 
their  feet,  were  waiting  here  and  there  for 
assignment  to  place;  for  the  enrolment  of 
their  names  on  the  books  of  an  inspector — 
a  quiet  and  practised  man  who  spoke  as 
157 


The  Outlaws 

one  capable  of  commanding.  He  was  send- 
ing them  in  groups  of  a  dozen  farther 
along,  providing  them  with  tools  from  an 
old  canal-boat  tied  up  at  the  edge  of  the 
river  below,  assigning  the  women  to  a  row 
of  shabby  shanties  that  had  been  hurriedly 
erected.  Evidently,  the  number  on  hand 
was  greater  than  the  company  had  been 
prepared  for. 

Dan  Rank  understood  the  problem.  He 
had  watched  the  work  in  the  earlier  years, 
when  the  canal  was  in  process  of  construc- 
tion past  his  own  home.  It  was  there  he 
had  first  risen  to  the  pride  of  "  making  a 
hand,"  of  achieving  equality  with  grown 
men  at  labor.  From  much  watching  and 
work  he  was  familiar  with  every  detail 
of  it,  from  felling  the  trees  that  stood  in 
the  way  to  joining  the  rocks  in  an  aque- 
duct. 

The  big,  dark  man  came  to  him  hur- 
riedly. 

"What  yez  doin'  here?"  he  demanded 
in  the  brogue  by  no  means  unfamiliar. 
158 


Dan  Comes  to  Command 

"  Nothing,"  was  Dan's  reply. 

"  Do  yez  want  worrkl  " 

He  could  not  honestly  say  "  No,"  and  in 
the  moment  of  his  hesitation,  the  dark  man 
decided  for  him. 

"  Git  in  here  wid  dhe  handshpike,  and 
roll  dhem  shtones.  Ye're  a  fine  shtrong  lad 
for  the  canal." 

And  fairly  before  he  realized  he  was 
tugging  at  the  lever,  and  rolling  the  heavy 
boulders  out  of  the  way. 

Accustomed  to  work  unimpeded  by  out- 
er garments,  he  wanted  to  remove  his  coat, 
yet  was  reluctant  to  lay  it  down.  The  other 
men  ceased  talking  when  he  was  near  them, 
and  eyed  him.  He  doubted  if  he  would  ever 
see  that  coat  again — and  it  his  best.  Yet  he 
tossed  the  garment  rather  carelessly  across 
the  low  branch  of  a  tree  by  the  side  of  the 
channel.  He  was  very  sure  every  eye 
among  the  hundreds  saw  his  action — and 
marked  the  prize  for  capture.  He  won- 
dered if  they  would  quarrel  over  it,  and 
rend  it.  He  glanced  at  some  of  the  wrap- 
159 


The  Outlaws 

pings  of  leg  or  body,  and  fancied  these 
might  have  been  secured  in  just  that  man- 
ner. 

One  thing  became  clear  to  Dan  Eank 
very  quickly.  He  was  better  than  they  in 
the  work.  His  judgment  and  skill  were 
better.  He  knew  how  to  take  advantage  of 
the  labor.  They  were  in  the  main,  as  chil- 
dren ;  and  needed  much  direction.  But  they 
followed  willingly,  and  every  time  he  indi- 
cated where  their  strength  should  be 
thrown,  they  gave  the  heartiest  support. 
The  big,  dark  man,  always  shouting  com- 
mands, directions,  maledictions  which  pro- 
voked no  resentment,  came  nearer,  and  took 
note  of  the  progress.  Once  or  twice  the 
inspector  passed,  leading  new  men  to  the 
boat  for  tools,  or  hurrying  other  late  arri- 
vals along  the  line;  for  there  was  a  nerv- 
ous energy  everywhere. 

From  time  to  time  Dan  Eank  was  moved 
to  new  places,  and  by  noon  he  was  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  his  coat. 

"  Haley,"  said  the  inspector,  "  put  that 
160 


Dan  Comes  to  Command 

young  Hoosier  in  charge  of  the  lower  gang, 
and  get  them  all  to  work.  Take  him  down 
to  the  boat  with  you.  He  can't  live  with  the 
paddies,  and  he's  too  good  to  lose." 

They  stopped  work  at  a  signal  from 
their  foreman,  and  instantly  brought  from 
unsuspected  places  slender  fragments  of 
food.  There  was  little  meat.  The  bread 
was  usually  of  corn  meal ;  and  Dan  noted, 
too  amazed  for  the  thought  of  impolite  in- 
spection, that  there  was  frequently  nothing 
in  addition  to  this  morsel. 

Yet  they  ate  slowly,  jabbering  in  that 
often  unintelligible  tone,  breaking  off  a 
fragment  at  a  time,  and  making  much  of 
the  amazing  little. 

Accustomed  as  he  was  to  great  feasts 
of  hot  food  at  noon,  with  meat  in  profusion 
and  bread  and  vegetables  in  plenty,  with 
sauce  of  fruit  or  of  honey,  and  with  milk 
whenever  desired,  Dan  was  suddenly  op- 
pressed with  pangs  of  hunger  more  griev- 
ous than  he  had  felt  before.  Yet  he  was 
overwhelmed  with  profound  pity  for  the 
161 


The  Outlaws 

men  who,  needing  so  much,  were  supplied 
so  meagerly. 

Their  cabins  were,  for  the  most  part, 
the  slenderest  protection  against  weather. 
Some  were  without  a  single  board  in  the 
whole  construction.  They  were  low — the 
framing  of  saplings  or  small  trees  ar- 
ranged against  timbers  of  bigger  growth, 
and  usually  covered  half-way  to  the  apex 
of  a  clumsy  roof,  with  earth  thrown  from 
the  ditches  at  the  side.  He  was  very  sure 
the  ground  was  the  only  floor  the  cabins 
boasted. 

About  the  houses  were  clustering 
groups  of  women  and  children.  The  lat- 
est arrivals  had  been  freely  given  such  wel- 
come as  warm  hearts,  though  almost  empty; 
hands,  could  afford.  In  many  places  there 
were  out-of-door  fires,  and  provision  for 
feeding  the  men  and  their  families ;  but  the 
promise  only  accentuated  the  poverty  and 
extremity  of  the  workers.  The  strong 
young  native  turned  away  overpowered 
with  his  sympathy  for  them. 
162 


Dan   Comes  to  Command 

A  number  of  men  came  toward  him, 
chattering  excitedly.  One  of  them  had 
taken  that  Sunday  coat  from  the  tree,  and 
was  carrying  it  carefully.  They  were  run- 
ning, and  calling  him.  Two  came  quite 
close,  and  gave  him  the  coat.  He  under- 
stood instantly  they  felt  he  needed  it  after 
the  warming  exercise  of  labor,  and  that 
their  action  was  simply  an  expression  of 
kindliness  and  concern.  It  was  the  one 
thing  he  could  not  have  borne.  His  eyes 
were  full  of  tears.  The  athlete  who  would 
cheerfully  have  fought  any  number  of  them 
on  any  sort  of  provocation,  felt  that  the 
moment  of  unmanly  weeping  had  come. 

The  man  who  presented  the  coat — Dris- 
coll — was  haggard  and  pale,  and  the  blue 
eyes  gleamed  with  fever  in  an  emaciated 
face.  He  was,  without  doubt,  the  ragged- 
est  man  in  the  crowd,  and  the  one  who 
seemed  least  fitted  in  strength  for  the  work. 
He  was  ill.  He  lacked  nutritious  food.  He 
was  worn  with  the  malaria  which,  even  at 
that  early  season,  was  making  inroads  all 
163 


The  Outlaws 

along  the  valley;  and  Dan  Bank  put  the 
coat  upon  DriscolPs  half-bare  shoulders, 
thrust  the  gaunt  arms  in  the  comfortable 
sleeves,  buttoned  it  from  top  to  bottom,  and 
turned  him  about.  The  others,  surprised 
and  gratified  at  the  action,  shouted  their 
warm-hearted  commendation. 

"  That's  yours,  brother,"  he  said  sim- 
ply; for  his  lips  were  quivering,  and  he 
dared  not  say  more. 

There  he  left  them,  for  Haley,  the  big 
foreman,  approached. 

"  Yez  hain't  any  dinner  wid  ye,"  said 
the  ni'an.  The  tone  was  as  harsh  and  as 
dominant  as  when  commanding  the  work- 
ers. "  Come  along  wid  me." 

They  went  to  the  old  canal-boat,  drawn 
up  at  the  shore  of  the  river.  It  had  been  a 
freighter,  and  the  forward  part  still  held 
to  the  uses  of  a  living  place.  Inside,  a  stout 
woman  was  bending  over  a  stove,  and  near 
a  window  was  a  table. 

"  Ye'll  eat  wid  me,"  said  the  boss. 
"  Anny  man  can  see  yez  are  no  loafer ;  and 
164 


Dan  Comes  to  Command 

yez  wasn't  raised  to  canallin',  though  yez 
do  take  hold  amazin'.  Set  down.  Old  wom- 
an, fetch  on  yer  dinner."  Then,  turning 
again  to  his  guest,  "  What's  yer  name?  " 

"  Dan." 

"  Dan's  enough,  if  there  ain't  anny 
more.  Phwat's  dhe  rest  av  it!  " 

"  Dan  Rank  is  my  name." 

"  Phwere  do  yez  live  ?  " 

The  first  impulse  was  against  telling. 
There  was  a  thought  that  he  was  "  running 
away,"  and  of  course  in  such  a  case  he 
must  not  make  admissions  that  would  lead 
to  detection.  But  instantly  the  better  coun- 
sel prevailed.  The  very  reason  for  his 
presence  here  was  his  rectitude;  'and  he 
answered : 

"  On  a  farm,  up  river." 

"  Dhen  yez  have  money." 

"  Some — enough." 

"Well,  yez  can  booard  wid  me.  Dhe 
likes  of  ye  would  starve  in  dhe  huts.  Old 
woman,  fix  up  a  bid  for  dhe  man  some- 
where. I'll  pay  yez  a  dollar  and  a  quar- 
165 


The  Outlaws 

ther  a  day.  Dhat's  more  dan  dhe  others 
git — and  its  more  dhan  dhere  're  worth — 
dhe  County  Mayo  omahdauns.  I'll  give  yez 
canallin'  clothes  afther  dinner;  and  ye'll 
boss  dhe  min  in  dhe  lower  gang.  Ye'll  have 
to  whale  dhem,  or  dhey  won't  worrk,  and 
dhe  superintendent  '11  put  yez  back  in  dhe 
pits.  Yez  must  kape  yer  eye  on  dhe  tools, 
for  dhem  shpalpeens  shtale  whale-bar- 
ries  and  chubbles,  and  sell  dhem  for 
whishky." 

"For  whisky!" 

"  Yes,  though — Hiven  help  dhem — dhey 
couldn't  do  dhe  worrk  if  dhey  didn't  have  a 
dhrap  of  the  crature.  And  dhey  have  no 
money  till  pay-day — and  dommed  little 
dhen.  Old  woman,  git  me  poipe." 

She  was  not  an  old  woman  at  all,  but 
young  and  measurably  attractive — when 
compared  with  Haley — but  it  was  a  man- 
ner of  speech  not  uncommonly  applied  to 
wives.  She  cooked  fairly  well,  and  the 
dinner  was  vastly  better  than  Dan  Eank 
had  expected.  He  left  his  new  host  smok- 
166 


Dan  Comes  to  Command 

ing  beside  the  table,  and  walked  aft  through 
the  boat. 

Back  of  the  living  room  was  a  big, 
empty  section,  once  devoted  to  cargo ;  and 
beyond  that,  the  place  where  horses  had 
been  stabled  when  the  boat  was  in  active 
service.  The  remaining  third  of  the  vessel 
was  a  storeroom  with  tools  and  supplies 
of  coarse  food  and  coarser  clothing.  He 
selected  garments,  put  on  the  clumsy  shoes, 
and  smiled  at  himself,  for  the  picture  pre- 
sented was  as  amusing  as  it  was  new. 

"Pm  disguised  now,"  he  said,  trying 
to  laugh. 

There  was  vast  comfort  about  him,  in 
spite  of  the  grotesque  costume.  He  had 
employment,  and  at  wages  that  were  rated 
good.  He  had  food  and  bed  assured.  And 
the  working  out  of  his  larger  problem  must 
rest,  first  of  all,  on  this  beginning. 

Dan  toiled  among  his  gang  at  the  sec- 
ond section  through  the  afternoon,  and  was 
pleased  to  observe  that  his  group  escaped 
the  profane  condemnations  of  the  boss. 
167 


The  Outlaws 

The  course  of  the  canal  ran  through  an 
area  covered  with  oak  and  walnut ;  and  the 
men  from  overseas  were  not  skilled  wood- 
men. It  was  a  pleasure  to  him.  The  work 
was  of  a  sort  to  which  he  was  accustomed. 
And  the  big  trees  which  other  choppers  had 
felled  across  the  right-of-way,  or  heaped 
in  annoying  tangles,  or  hurled  in  careless 
proximity  to  the  groups  of  unwarned  dig- 
gers, all  lay,  under  his  chopping,  in  order- 
ly array,  to  the  right  and  to  the  left.  So 
that  a  fair  aisle  was  opened  through  the 
woods. 

Just  at  quitting  time  the  work  was  vis- 
ited by  the  inspector ;  and  Haley  reported 
on  his  latest  acquisition. 

"  Dhey  loike  to  worrk  for  him,"  said  he, 
"  and  I'm  givin'  him  twelve  shillings." 

"  Give  him  two  dollars,"  said  the  supe- 
rior. "  Push  him,  and  let  him  push  the  rest 
of  them.  We  need  such  men,  and  need  them 
badly." 


168 


CHAPTER  XIII 

TRICKING  THE  POSSE 

THE  posse  had  finally  returned  to  the 
home  neighborhood,  and  had  found  in  the 
Sand  Islands,  within  a  mile  of  their  start- 
ing point,  after  infinite  hardships  and 
wearisome  rides,  the  long-hidden  rendez- 
vous of  the  outlaws. 

They  had  found  out  the  traitor  in  their 
own  councils — the  crafty  and  capable  Jared 
Caruth. 

They  had  followed  the  chase  for  weeks, 
had  suffered  hunger  and  exposure  in  an 
inclement  season,  had  perilled  their  lives, 
and  had  in  every  hour  crystallized  that 
sentiment  of  antipathy  to  crime  which 
is  the  sufficient  foundation  of  order.  And 
as  the  purpose  of  rectitude  took  definite 
form,  banishing  the  spirit  of  tolerance,  of 
easy  judgment,  their  anger  grew  against 
169 


The  Outlaws 

the  men  they  hunted.  The  consciousness 
increased  that  those  offenders  had  no  de- 
fense ;  had  no  refuge,  had  no  rights.  Wild 
beasts  that  came  from  the  forests  and  dev- 
astated the  flocks  were  no  more  beyond  the 
pale  of  mercy  than  were  those  who  made 
defiance  of  law. 

And  it  was  with  an  added  sting  of  re- 
sentment that  they  finally  realized  one  of 
their  own  community  had  been  allied  with 
the  outlaws  from  the  first.  They  suddenly 
took  up  and  viewed,  one  after  another,  a 
score  of  Jared's  acts  which  were  puzzling 
at  the  time  of  commission,  and  could  have 
but  one  construction  in  the  light  of  this 
later  discovery. 

He  reached  his  home  in  the  same  hour 
with  them,  his  clothes  torn,  his  face  and 
hands  covered  with  bruises,  and  carrying 
the  battered  lock  which  he  hoped  would 
free  him  from  all  suspicion. 

True,  when  confronted,  agile  Jared 
found  defenses.  Eoused  as  they  were,  he 
overwhelmed  them  with  arguments;  and 
170 


Tricking  the  Posse 

while  he  stood  before  them  in  the  hour  of 
their  triumph  over  outlaws,  his  case  seemed 
good. 

"  Hold  my  wa'mus,"  he  cried,  flinging 
his  arms  from  the  garment,  and  handing 
it  to  rugged  Abe  Rhinehart,  grown  even 
more  grim  and  retributive. 

It  was  by  the  side  of  the  old  stable  in  the 
rear  of  his  cabin;  and  he  began  thrusting 
his  hands  in  the  matted  grass  and  leaves 
that  formed  the  weatherside  wall,  as  if 
searching  for  something  that  could  estab- 
lish his  innocence.  And  he  had  builded 
so  well  it  needed  nothing  but  corrobora- 
tion. 

Whatever  he  searched  for  eluded  his 
thrustings,  and  Jared — intent,  resolute, 
with  growing  indignation  which  put  them 
on  the  defensive — stepped  quickly  about 
the  end  of  the  stable,  and  entered  the  wide 
door. 

They  heard  him  from  the  inside,  not 
five  feet  away,  still  troubling  those  twigs 
and  leaves  in  the  rain-brown  straw. 
12  171 


The  Outlaws 

"  Can  you  see  it?  "  he  demanded ;  and 
they  pressed  a  little  closer  on  the  out- 
side. 

"  See  what?  "  demanded  Phil  Whitesell, 
suspiciously. 

"  It's  a  leather  bag.  Can  you  see  it?  " 
He  was  accusingly  insistent. 

"  No." 

"  Can  you  see  my  hand?  " 

"Yes,  but " 

"  Wait  a  minute." 

There  was  silence. 

They  waited  more  than  a  minute. 

Then  they  called  to  him. 

He  did  not  answer. 

Seth  Reed  stepped  swiftly  around  to 
the  door. 

The  others  caught  up  their  guns. 

But  the  man  was  gone,  and  they  did  not 
see  him  again.  They  tried  to  solve  the  rid- 
dle of  his  disappearance,  but  it  baffled 
them.  He  had  betrayed  them  consistently 
from  the  start. 

Just  once  a  man  of  that  intelligence  may 
1T2 


Tricking  the  Posse 

walk  into  the  peril  of  enraged  partners,  but 
he  will  not  do  it  a  second  time. 

They  beat  the  woods.  They  almost 
completed  the  demolition  of  the  ramshackle 
stable,  and  they  searched  the  swamps.  But 
they  were  not  rewarded.  Jared  Caruth 
had  gone  as  foxes  go — right  out  of  the 
sight,  under  the  eyes  that  were  watching 
him. 

Phil  Whitesell  was  the  only  man  in  the 
neighborhood  ever  satisfied  with  his  expla- 
nation of  the  disappearance. 

"  Ghosts,"  said  he,  whenever  the  matter 
reached  the  point  of  futility  in  the  discus- 
sion. 

Jared  found  the  Sand  Islands  safest  till 
night  fell.  Then  he  fled  shivering  through 
the  woods,  and  followed  the  river,  and  was 
gone. 


173 


CHAPTER  XIV 

STOCKING  AND  HALEY 

AT  the  close  of  the  day  Dan  Rank  walked 
down  toward  the  old  boat  which  had  become 
a  house  for  him. 

A  woman  carrying  a  babe  paused  at  the 
door  of  her  cabin. 

"  You're  the  mon  that  put  a  co-oat  on 
me  husband,  Teddy,"  she  said ;  and  the  tone 
was  musical  with  the  gratitude  which  the 
Celt  can  best  express.  She  lifted  the  babe 
to  the  hollow  of  her  elbow,  and  turned  to 
look  into  the  little  hut  that  volunteer  hands 
were  building  about  her.  "  He's  laid  down 
for  the  bit  of  a  rest.  He's  that  wake  from 
the  long  v'yage,  and  his  stren'th  don't  come 
back." 

"  Driscoll's  got  the  agy,"  volunteered  a 
neighbor. 

Dan  stepped  to  the  door.  The  man  was 
1T4 


Stocking  and  Haley 

lying  on  a  bit  of  mattress,  but  he  struggled 
to  a  sitting  posture,  with  an  effort  at  hos- 
pitality. 

"  Coome  in,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Coome  in, 
and  set  down.  Will  yez  have  a  cup  o'  tay? 
Bridget,  me  darlint " 

"No,  thank  you.  Lie  down,  Driscoll. 
Get  rested.  You'll  be  the  better  in  the 
morning."' 

The  pathos  of  it  touched  him,  for  there 
was  not  the  suggestion  of  a  chair  in  the 
place ;  and  he  was  sure  that  offer  of  tea  was 
but  the  flower  of  a  courtesy  as  instinctive 
as  it  was  hopeless. 

"  They  will  have  to  be  fed,  or  they  can't 
work,"  he  mused  as  he  turned  away. 

The  boat  was  better  than  when  he 
walked  through  at  noon.  There  was  a  com- 
fortable bed  and  a  number  of  chairs  in  the 
middle  compartment.  The  further  fur- 
nishings of  the  room  were  meager  enough, 
but  they  were  so  vastly  better  than  he  had 
expected  that  Dan  Rank  stood  at  the  plank 
in  the  dusk  of  evening,  a  feeling  of  thank- 
175 


The  Outlaws 

fulness  in  his  heart — thankfulness  which 
would  have  been  more  complete  but  for  the 
pity  that  pressed  upon  it. 

At  supper  Haley  had  a  tin  cup  of  whis- 
ky at  his  plate,  and  he  drank  a  good  deal. 
He  was  even  louder  than  usual,  and  bent 
on  contention. 

"  Old  woman,  bring  Dan  a  cup  of  dhe 
liquor." 

"I  don't  want  any — thanks.  I  never 
drank  a  drop  in  my  life." 

"  Dhen  it's  toime  ye  began.  Old  woman, 
will  ye  bring  him  dhe  cup !  " 

She  supplied  him,  saying  nothing,  and 
went  about  her  kitchen  duties.  Dan  pushed 
back  the  proffered  bottle. 

"Thanks,  Mr.  Haley,"  he  said.  "It 
would  spoil  my  good  supper." 

"  Ye'll  drink  wan  drink,  or  I'll  t'row  yez 
aff  dhe  boat." 

Haley  was  no  more  angry  than  before. 
It  was  still  the  rough  insistence  of  a  rough 
host;  but  the  young  man  laughed  as  he 
shook  his  head. 

176 


Stocking  and  Haley 

"  Will  yez  drink  it,  or  will  yez  go  over 
dhe  soidef  " 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I  will  do  either,  Mr. 
Haley." 

"  That  strange  man  with  good  clothes 
is  coming,"  said  the  woman  suddenly. 
Then  she  hurriedly  set  forth  another  cup. 

A  strong  tread  on  the  earth  outside,  the 
stroke  of  a  booted  foot  on  the  plank,  and 
then  the  form  of  a  man  appeared  at  the 
door. 

"  Hello,  Haley,"  called  a  genial,  hearty 
voice ;  and  David  Stocking  strode  into  the 
room. 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  recognize  Dan 
Rank.  The  light  was  dim.  The  one  candle 
served  only  to  furnish  him  safe  passage  to 
the  chair  that  the  woman  placed.  But  he 
was  clearly  a  habitual  visitor,  and  quickly 
noted  the  addition  to  the  usual  group. 

"  Why,  it's  my  Dan,"  he  cried,  extend- 
ing his  hand,  and  advancing  cordially. 
"  It's  my  wrestler — my  young  Hercules. 
I'll  take  a  drop  of  the  liquor,  if  you  don't 
177 


The  Outlaws 

mind,  Mrs.  Haley,"  lie  said.  "And  I 
brought  a  comb  for  your  black  hair.  If 
Haley  isn't  jealous  now " 

"  Yez  can  bring  her  a  carriage,  if  yez 
loike,"  responded  the  foreman.  "  Fill  up. 
Fill  up,  Dan,  and  drink  to  dhe  gintleman's 
good  health." 

"  Dan  don't  drink,"  said  David  Stock- 
ing. "  He's  temperance." 

"  He'll  drink  to-night,"  said  Haley,  ris- 
ing with  some  difficulty,  "  or  I'll  pitch  him 
over  dhe  soide." 

"  Don't  do  it,  Haley,"  protested  the  vis- 
itor, gaily  forcing  the  dark  man  back  to  his 
chair.  "  Don't  ever  try  to  put  Dan  over 
the  side.  I  know  him.  Come  on.  I  haven't 
had  my  dram.  Here's  to  the  ditch,  and 
may  we  all  live  to  see  it  finished." 

The  two  then  drank,  Haley's  eyes  rov- 
ing over  to  Dan  at  intervals.  There  was 
a  suggestion  he  did  not  relish  in  Stocking's 
words.  He  could  not  understand  that  any 
man  would  pretend  Haley  was  less  than 
master  in  the  field  of  force. 
178 


Stocking  and  Haley 

"Well,  you're  getting  on  famously," 
cried  the  jubilant  guest.  "  The  new  gang 
is  settled  as  if  they  were  born  here.  How 
many  have  you  1 " 

"  Dhey's  two  hundred." 

Haley  was  in  liquor;  but  he  was  one 
of  those  whose  shrewdness  remained  long 
after  leg  and  arm  turned  traitor. 

"Two  hundred."  Stocking  lifted  the 
half -empty  tin  cup,  and  sang : 

"And  a  hundred  went  out  in  the  morning — 

Hi  lo! 

And  ten  laid  them  down  for  to  die ; 
And  the  ninety  they  laughed  at  the  warning — 

Hi  lo! 

And  we  look  for  them  now  in  the  sky. 
We  look  for  them  now  in  the  sky — 
For  five  are  all  of  the  hundred  that's  left, 
And  they're  going  too,  by  and  by." 

"  Drink  up : 

"  And  they're  going  too,  by  and  by." 

"  Dhat's  good,"  shouted  Haley.  "  Dhat's 
good  singing.  Dhey're  all  goin'.  Have  an- 
other." 

1Y9 


The  Outlaws 

"  Have  you  told  Dan  Bank  anything, 
Haley?" 

"  Not  a  worrud.    Should  we  let  him  in  ?  " 

"  He's  just  the  man  for  us.  Dan — " 
This  in  a  lower  tone — "We  are  going  to 
let  these  canal  people  make  us  rich.  Ha- 
ley and  I  have  worked  it  out.  I  gave 
you  a  hint  of  it  last  night.  It's  nice  and 
easy." 

"Saturday's  pay-day,"  said  Haley. 

"  And  Saturday's  the  horse  race.  We'll 
get  the  beginning  of  it.  What's  the  use 
digging?  They  have  too  much  money. 
Fill  up  again.  Dan,  here's  to  you,  whether 
you  drink  or  not.  My  eye,  man,  I  wish  I 
could  see  you  wrestle  once  more.  Here's 
to  you,  I  say." 

Then  he  sang : 

"We  drink  to  the  chief  who  has  never  a  fear, 

We  drink  to  the  men  who  can  follow. 
We  ride  all  night  in  the  moonlight  clear, 

And  we  sleep  in  the  caverns  hollow. 
For  the  days  are  swift,  and  money  is  slow, 
And  it's  hard  to  get,  and  easy  to  go — 

180 


Stocking  and  Haley 

And  a  long  strong  rope  is  the  end,  my  friend, 
And  a  tilting  plank,  and  a  fall; 

And  so,  if  you  dread  the  end,  my  friend, 
You  better  not  ride  at  all." 

"Hurrah,"  shouted  Haley.  And  even 
the  unconsidered  woman  across  the  cabin 
clapped  her  hands  in  applause.  The  dishes 
still  littering  the  supper-table  danced  as 
the  heavy  fists  came  down,  and  the  can- 
dle toppled  with  the  roistering  jubila- 
tion. 

"How's  that,  Dan?" 

"  Fine — the  best  I  ever  heard." 

"  You  will  sing  a  gayer  tune  if  you  go 
with  us." 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  stay  right  here  for  a  while ;  but 
we  are  going  to  get  some  money  to  stay 
with  us." 

Dan  was  wise  enough  to  realize  that'  all 
this  meant  the  lawlessness  which  he  could 
not  share;  that  it  implied  a  purpose  of 
something  criminal ;  and  he  sat  there  won- 
dering what  was  his  best  course.  For  he 
181 


The  Outlaws 

had  already  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  dawn- 
ing for  which  he  had  planned  when  he  left 
home,  and  no  thought  was  so  strong  as  the 
resolve  for  rectitude. 

They  saw  he  was  silent. 

"  You've  got  to  go  in,  Dan.  Your  folks 
believe  it,  anyway." 

"Believe  what?" 

"  That  you  are  an  outlaw.  The  sheriff 
would  come  and  get  you  if  he  knew  you 
were  here." 

"  He  would  have  a  good  time.  You  fel- 
lows—  But  listen!" 

There  was  a  cry,  a  shrill  voice,  lifting 
his  name  out  there  among  the  trees. 

"  Some  of  the  men  are  calling  me,"  he 
said,  and  went  hurriedly  from  the  boat. 
Haley  leaned  forward  as  he  went,  half  ris- 
ing to  measure  that  sturdy  frame,  to  trifle 
with  the  temptation  which  always  besets  a 
bully. 

Ashore,  Dan  met  the  people  running 
from  the  cabin  of  the  Driscoll's. 

"  Oh,  Holy  Hither,  me  Teddy's  dead," 
182 


Stocking  and  Haley- 
cried  the  woman.    She  was  kneeling  at  the 
side   of  the   pallet,   her  hair   disheveled, 
her  hands  clasping  and  unclasping  in  the 
agony  of  her  trouble. 

The  young  fellow  pushed  his  way 
through  the  gathering  group  of  exclaim- 
ing sympathizers,  and  stooped  low  above 
the  quiet  figure  outstretched  on  the  mat- 
tress. But  he  found  what  the  wife  had 
missed — that  the  cold  limbs  were  not  limp. 
They  moved  —  however  weakly  —  in  re- 
sponse to  his  pressure.  He  rose,  and  tried 
to  look  about  the  unlighted  room.  At  the 
door  he  found  a  man  with  whom  he  had 
worked  all  day. 

"  Dinny,  you  get  a  candle ;  and  then 
have  the  men  bring  some  boards  to  put  un- 
der his  bed.  He's  too  near  this  damp 
ground.  The  man's  not  dead.  Be  quiet, 
people." 

It  was  astonishing  how  he  controlled 

them,  how  they  submitted  themselves  to 

him.   He  took  no  note  of  the  blessings  they 

showered  on  him  as  he  ran.    But  he  hur- 

183 


The  Outlaws 

ried  to  the  boat,  sprang  across  the  plank, 
and  burst  into  the  room  where  Stocking 
and  Haley  were  sitting. 

"  Lend  me  the  bottle,"  he  said ;  and  had 
taken  it  and  fled  before  they  could  offer  a 
protest.  It  was  far  better  liquor  than  that 
commonly  provided  for  their  drinking,  but 
he  did  not  regard  the  circumstance  as  a  de- 
terrent. He  pressed  a  spoonful  to  the  lips 
of  the  sick  man,  then  gently  lifted  him, 
mattress  and  all,  to  the  rough  board  sup- 
port the  neighbors  had  provided.  How  he 
wished  for  his  mother's  skill  in  medicine — 
or  even  the  surly  service  which  Maria 
could  render.  He  stripped  up  the  thin 
sleeve  of  the  patient,  and,  pouring  some 
liquor  in  his  palm,  bathed  the  shrunken 
member,  rubbing  briskly  but  gently. 
And  presently  Driscoll  breathed,  opened 
his  eyes,  and  even  laid  his  hand  on  that 
tousled  crown  of  his  kneeling  and  terri- 
fied wife. 

Then  Dan  Rank  went  outside,  and  had 
half-a-dozen  logs  rolled  together,  heaped 
184 


Stocking  and  Haley 

their  severed  branches  upon  them,  as  was 
the  custom  in  the  clearing  at  home,  and 
started  a  fire  which  roared  all  night,  con- 
suming the  vapors,  and  warming  the  air 
for  the  chill  bodies  of  the  emigrants. 


185 


CHAPTER   XV 

DAN'S  "  BAD  DREAM  " 

THE  air  was  balmy  and  warm,  and  the 
chill  wind  which  had  blown  steadily  for 
weeks  was  finally  stilled.  Haley  came 
somewhat  late  from  his  boat-house,  but  he 
was  unusually  noisy  and  profane,  and  the 
laborers  at  his  end  of  the  work  paid  for  the 
loitering  of  their  earlier  hours  with  savage 
driving  and  much  condemnation. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  inspector  to 
travel  along  the  line  almost  daily,  and  it 
happened  that  he  came  this  morning  when 
his  foreman  was  least  presentable. 

"  How  are  they  to-day,  Haley?  " 

"  Oh,  dhere  dhe  pest  of  the  worrld,  Mis- 
ther  Patterson.  Dhe're  dhat  sullen " 

The  men  made  no  complaint  to  their 
superior.  They  resumed  their  work,  thank- 
186 


Dan's  "Bad  Dream" 

ful  for  the  temporary  peace,  and  willing 
to  waive  all  protests. 

"  Many  of  them  sick  1 " 

"  A  dozen,  sorr.     Some  won't  git  well." 

"You're  giving  them  whisky,  aren't 
you?" 

"  Well,  not  ivery  day,  sorr." 

"  They  need  it  every  day.  We  are  pro- 
viding it.  They  must  have  it  regularly — 
those  that  are  weak — or  they  will  die  of 
the  fever  and  ague." 

"  Howly  Mither,  Misther  Patterson.  I 
couldn't  manage  dhem  at  all  if  dhey  had 
dhe  dhrink." 

"  Then  some  one  else  will  have  to  man- 
age them.  You  have  it  here,  and  we  expect 
you  to  issue  it  to  them  as  they  need  it,  and 
you  are  making  requisitions  for  it  every 
time  you  get  supplies.  What  are  you  doing 
with  it?" 

"Nothing,  sorr." 

"  Then  put  on  a  jigger-boss  at  once.    I 
don't  like  this,  Haley.     I  think  you  are 
drinking  too  much  of  it  yourself." 
13  18Y 


The  Outlaws 

The  jigger-boss,  under  one  name  or 
another,  is  present  wherever  canals  are 
digged.  On  the  old  Wabash  waterway  he 
was  much  like  his  brothers  later  at  Suez 
and  Panama — or  that  earlier  brother  on 
the  Erie,  and  earlier  still,  no  doubt,  in 
Syria  and  in  China.  He  prolonged  some 
lives,  very  probably;  relieved  a  good  deal 
of  pain,  and — for  this  was  the  final  con- 
sideration— he  got  more  work  out  of  the 
men. 

Barrels  of  liquor  had  been  stored  there 
in  the  old  canal-boat,  and  a  man  was  se- 
lected for  his  discretion,  and  his  habit  of 
comparative  abstinence,  who  went  about 
wherever  laborers  were  gathered  together, 
carrying  his  pail  of  spirits  and  his  dipper. 
Those  exhausted,  or  suffering  from  the 
chills  of  malaria,  were  given  drink.  It  was 
an  office  of  importance.  The  judgment  of 
the  jigger-boss  was  the  only  rule;  and  as 
human  wisdom  fails  at  times,  he  may  have 
made  mistakes.  He  may  have  given  tip- 
ples when  nature  did  not  demand;  and  he 
188 


Dan's   "Bad  Dream' 

may  have  refused  where  stimulant  would 
have  been  a  benefit.  Also,  being  human, 
he  may  have  abused  his  high  office  to  re- 
ward friends  or  to  punish  enemies  at 
times.  But  in  the  main  his  ministration 
was  a  help. 

Kemember,  there  were  no  medicines. 
No  tonic  had  leaped  from  the  earth  to  com- 
bat a  pestilent  ague  which  answered  the 
challenge  of  their  picks  and  shovels.  The 
broken  doors  of  earth  had  emitted  a  vapor ; 
and  those  who  forced  the  portals  brought 
no  weapon  for  that  combat.  The  rank  poi- 
son of  the  alcohol  was  a  primitive  defense 
against  the  ranker  poison  of  malaria.  And 
whisky  was,  to  a  whole  generation,  the 
only  tonic  that  ague-troubled  pioneers 
could  find.  Even  when  their  good  wives 
learned  the  secrets  of  the  herbs  and  roots 
which  drew  curative  qualities  from  the 
very  soil  that  exuded  the  disease,  whisky 
formed  the  base  of  their  medications; 
and  "bitters"  took  the  place  of  bev- 
erage. 

189 


The  Outlaws 

The  inspector  walked  down  the  line, 
noting  progress,  and  so  came  to  Dan  Bank 
and  his  men. 

"Who  is  bossing  this  gang  1"  he  de- 
manded. 

"  I  am,"  replied  the  young  man. 

"What  are  you  down  there  with  them 
for?  Get  up  here,  where  you  can  see 
them." 

Dan  Bank  looked  at  him  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said : 

"  If  I  am  going  to  have  this  gang,  I  will 
work  with  them.  We  can  do  more  that 
way,  and  do  it  better." 

The  inspector  was  a  very  great  man; 
and  the  spectacle  of  a  foreman  crossing 
him,  or  declining  to  act  on  one  of  his  sug- 
gestions, was  a  rare  thing.  A  murmur  of 
surprise  and  commendation  was  heard 
from  the  hurrying  men. 

But  Mr.  Patterson  was  one  of  those 
wise  persons  who  prefer  the  accomplish- 
ing of  the  main  object  to  the  gratifying  of 
an  unimportant  whim.  He  was  trying  to 
190 


Dan's  "Bad  Dream " 

build  a  canal;  and  no  temptation  to  self- 
assertion  could  induce  him  to  lose  a  step 
in  that  progress.  He  recognized  in  the 
tone  and  in  the  opposition  of  this  young 
fellow  a  spirit  which  promised  value  in  his 
enterprise. 

"  What  is  your  name?  " 

He  took  out  a  note-book  and  pencil. 

"  Dan  Bank." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  did  not  recognize  you  in 
those  clothes.  You  are  getting  along. 
Need  anything?" 

"  Nothing  but  more  men." 

He  waited  a  moment,  looking  at  the 
young  leader,  and  the  rare  energy  of  his 
toilers. 

"  You  will  have  them  yet — in  plenty," 
he  said  simply,  and  turned  away. 

Haley  visited  his  room  at  intervals 
through  the  forenoon,  and  at  dinner  was 
the  worse  for  the  visits,  since  he  was  drink- 
ing heavily. 

"I  won't  go  up  to  dhe  wor-rk  dhis 
afthernoon,  Dan,"  he  said,  a  savage  quality 
191 


The  Outlaws 

in  his  voice.  "  You'll  have  to  manage  dhe 
whole  uv  'em." 

"  All  right." 

And  so  the  youngster  was  in  command 
of  nearly  two  hundred  men;  and  he  felt 
as  he  passed  among  them  that  it  was  not 
simply  flinging  earth  and  rolling  stones 
that  engaged  him.  He  was  helping  to 
build  a  mighty  waterway ;  and  the  dignity 
of  that  enterprise  ennobled  his  industry, 
and  brought  the  feeling  that  a  part  of  his 
own  life  was  taking  form  in  the  walls  and 
floors  of  this  canal.  He  had  caught  a  pro- 
phetic glimpse  of  the  valley's  development, 
with  cities  lighting  the  great  region,  with 
farms  full  of  life  and  rich  in  happiness, 
with  highways,  and  schools  where  children 
learned;  and,  linking  them  all  together, 
making  each  greater  because  of  this  artery 
which  brought  the  blood  of  commerce  and 
of  books  from  other  lands,  was  the  great 
heart  of  progress,  the  nerves  of  advance- 
ment, and  civilization's  brain. 

He  knew  he  would  live  to  see  that  val- 
192 


Dan's   "Bad  Dream' 

ley  picture  filled  in  in  all  its  fair  detail ;  and 
his  growing,  forming  ambition  was  to  pre- 
pare the  way,  to  make  straight  the  path 
where  culture  might  enter  in. 

It  was  not  as  a  hireling  he  labored.  He 
had  an  interest  which  was  growing  to  be  a 
large  part  of  his  life ;  an  earnestness  which 
welled  over  from  his  own  abundant  energy, 
and  fed  the  fires  of  other  men. 

That  was  why  he  waked  with  sorrow  in- 
stead of  anger  when  strange  sounds  came 
to  the  waterside  of  his  lodging  late  in  the 
night.  He  knew  perfectly  that  some  one 
was  pushing  a  skiff  along  there  in  the  deep 
shadow.  He  knew  when  an  attack  was 
made  on  the  big  door;  and  he  knew  that 
within  the  long  room  back  of  his  own  were 
stores  of  tools  and  food,  and  the  barrels  of 
spirits  the  company  had  provided. 

He  realized  that  there  was  strong  temp- 
tation, but  he  was  grieved  that  his  men  had 
yielded,  sore  as  was  their  need.  There  was 
little  of  the  sentry's  indignation  as  he 
stepped  from  his  bed  and  drew  on  his 
193 


The  Outlaws 

clothes.  It  was  much  more  the  grief  of  a 
guardian  whose  ward  falls  into  the  wrong. 

The  fact  that  the  point  of  attack  was  on 
the  waterside  surprised  him,  for  the  work- 
men had  no  known  means  of  approaching 
there.  Though  the  shoreward  side  of  the 
boat  lay,  in  its  entire  length,  almost  touch- 
ing the  bank,  there  was  something  like  four 
feet  of  water  on  the  opposite  side.  But  the 
noise  of  forcing  an  opening  continued  at 
cautiously  continued  intervals,  and  Dan 
Kank  took  advantage  of  it  to  open  his  own 
door,  and  step  into  the  tool  room. 

By  the  same  process  he  then  closed  the 
door,  and  stood  in  the  place  alone. 

He  wondered  which  of  the  men  it  might 
be,  and  employed  his  brief  time  finding  a 
different  rebuke  in  either  of  the  several 
cases  that  seemed  probable. 

Then  the  portal  long  battened  shut  was 
forced  open,  and  Dan  could  see  the  shift- 
ing outlines  of  a  rowboat. 

For  a  moment  there  was  perfect  silence, 
and  then  a  shadowy  form  filled  the  open 
194 


Dan's  "Bad  Dream" 

door,  and  a  tall  man  stepped  from  the  skiff 
into  the  floating  storeroom.  He  turned  to 
whisper  something  to  a  confederate  with- 
out, and  then  tiptoed  in  the  dark  straight 
to  the  corner  where  the  whisky  barrels 
stood. 

As  he  did  so  his  figure  was  silhouetted 
against  the  light  from  the  burning  heap  of 
logs,-  and  Dan  Bank  recognized — not  a 
shoveler,  but  the  director  of  shovelers — 
Haley! 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? "  he  asked 
sternly. 

The  foreman  leaped  to  the  shadow,  and 
his  frightened  eyes  flashed  in  the  dark. 
There  was  the  stroke  of  an  open  hand 
against  the  wall  outside,  the  grinding  of 
the  skiff  on  the  heavier  craft,  the  disturb- 
ing of  water,  then  the  steady  sweep  of  oars 
growing  lighter.  The  confederate  had  es- 
caped, and  Haley  was  left  alone. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Haley! " 

Then  the  big  man's  assurance  came 
back. 

195 


The  Outlaws 

"It's  none  of  your  business.  Who's 
boss  here — yez,  or  me?  I'm  movin'  me 
tools,  and  I'm  not  askin'  permission  of  the 
loikes  of  chubblers.  Go  to  bed." 

But  the  strength  of  might  as  the 
strength  of  right  was  with  the  younger 
man.  He  knew  he  was  master  in  this 
meeting,  as  he  knew  in  all  reason  it 
would  make  him  master  on  the  section 
— the  foreman  of  workers,  the  leader  of 
labor. 

"  You  go  through  my  room  to  your  own, 
Haley,"  he  said  steadily.  "Go  in  there, 
and  be  there  in  the  morning,  or  the  sheriff 
will  be  after  you." 

"  He's  afther  yez  now,"  shouted  Haley. 
And  there  was  the  swift  shuffling  of  feet  as 
he  threw  himself  on  the  man  who  had 
trapped  him. 

He  could  have  borne  buffeting;  he 
could  have  suffered  blows.  A  driver  of 
laborers  on  land  or  water  in  those  days  was 
a  fighting  man,  and  Haley  had  risen  to  em- 
inence because  he  was  strong.  But  he  was 
196 


Dan's   "Bad  Dream" 

not  prepared  for  this  quick  pressure  of 
arms  about  him,  this  sudden  tripping  which 
disturbed  his  feet,  this  thrust  of  an  angular 
hip  against  his  thigh,  and  the  heave  that 
bereft  him  of  breath — that  sent  his  great 
body  as  from  a  catapult,  his  heels  striking 
the  low  ceiling,  his  shoulders  crashing 
against  the  floor. 

Dan  looked  from  the  opened  door,  but 
the  boatman  was  far  away,  up  the  stream, 
and  facing  him.  Close  to  the  shore  he 
went,  and  was  rowing  hard.  The  ar- 
rows of  light  from  the  burning  log  heap 
pierced  the  thicket  now  and  then,  and  he 
could  see  that  the  fugitive  was  slender, 
graceful,  very  well  dressed,  with  the  lin- 
en collar  uncommon  in  Western  apparel. 
He  believed  that  it  was  David  Stock- 
ing. 

As  he  watched,  an  oar  was  caught  by 
one  of  the  fishing  lines  with  which  the 
Irishmen  had  laced  the  edge  of  the  stream. 
In  an  instant  there  was  a  shout  from  the 
shore,  and  a  volley  of  condemning  decla- 
197 


The  Outlaws 

mation.  A  laborer  was  watching  there, 
hopeful  of  food,  or  armed  against  poachers 
on  his  own  private  lines. 

"  Lave  loose,  ye  thaf e  av  dhe  worrld," 
cried  the  irritant  voice  from  the  bank. 
"Lave  loose  me  hooks,  and  be  aff  wid 
ye." 

There  was  more  speech,  and  a  thrash- 
ing of  the  bushes  as  he  pulled  impatiently 
at  his  line.  The  oarsman,  singularly  deaf 
to  accusation,  loosed  the  entangling  ob- 
struction, and  without  a  word  of  reply, 
swept  on  to  the  north. 

Dan  Bank  went  to  the  shoreward  door, 
and  called  to  the  Irishman. 

"  Callahan,  who  was  that  in  the  boat?  " 

"  Oi  don't  know  his  name.  It's  dhe  mon 
wid  good  clothes  that  visits  here.  He's 
joost  afther  bringin'  dhe  boss  home." 

"  I  thought  so.    Good  night." 

Haley  was  at  the  table  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  was  in  a  particularly  agree- 
able mood.  He  greeted  Dan  without  con- 
straint, and  even  made  a  laughing  refer- 
198 


Dan's  "Bad  Dream" 

ence  to  the  encounter  of  the  previous 
night. 

"  R'ach,  and  take  holt,  and  help  your- 
self," he  said.  "  Me  roight  shoulder's  dhat 
lame  I  can't  hand  annything  to  ye." 

The  woman  served  them  in  silence,  as 
usual,  and  the  meal  was  as  others  had  been. 
But  at  the  end  Haley  pushed  back  his  chair, 
and  looked  across  the  table  with  the  frank 
grin  of  an  unabashed  villain. 

"  Dan,"  said  he,  "  ye  sometimes  have 
bad  drames." 

"  Yes,  that's  true." 

"  An'  ye  had  a  bad  drame  lasht  night." 

"  I  did,  for  a  fact." 

"  Well,  if  ye're  wise,  it's  no  more  dhan  a 
drame.  If  ye're  wise — d'ye  moind?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  be  careful  to  keep  awake 
hereafter,  Haley.  You  were  dreaming,  too, 
you  know." 

"  Well,  dhen,  we'll  nayther  drame  anny 

more.     And  Sathurday  ye  can  have  the 

whole  day  aff,  if  yez  want  it.    Dhere'll  be 

little   wor-rk   on   dhe   canal.    What   wid 

199 


The  Outlaws 

pay-day  in  dhe  mornin',  and  dhe  race 
in  dhe  afthernoon,  dhe  gangs'll  be  idle,  or 
worse.  Just  help  to  kape  dhem  from  kill- 
in'  'ach  other  off,  for  we'll  nade  dhem 
Monday." 


200 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SELIM  WINS  A  RACE 

WHEN  Saturday  came,  there  was  all  tlie 
disinclination  to  work  that  Haley  had  an- 
ticipated. Men  who  could  toil  unceasingly 
on  other  days  were  hunting  excuses  for 
idleness — and  sometimes  working  harder 
in  the  hunt  than  they  would  at  regular  tasks. 
At  midforenoon  the  paymaster  came;  and 
that  meant  abandonment  of  all  pretense  at 
labor.  The  calling  of  names,  the  disputes 
between  claimants,  the  adjustment  of  time, 
the  identification  of  newcomers — all  kept 
a  throng  about  the  paymaster's  improvised 
table ;  and  officials  were  too  busy  in  settling 
the  month's  finances  to  give  any  time  to 
digging. 

Women  were  about  in  the  crowds,  some- 
times carrying  babes,  sometimes  leading 
children;  but  always  appreciative,  always 
201 


The  Outlaws 

on  the  wailing  borderland  of  despair. 
They  needed  money,  and  the  men  were  not 
prudent,  nor  given  to  self-denial. 

Above  all  things,  after  payment,  the 
general  thought  was  of  the  race.  The  In- 
dian pony  which  Section  Seventeen  was 
bringing  to  the  course  had  a  fame  from 
earlier  years.  Later  arrivals  caught  the 
spirit  of  hostility — caught  the  desire  to  see 
that  winner  of  wagers  beaten.  The  inter- 
est had  been  growing  more  intense  for 
weeks.  It  crystallized  into  a  sentiment  of 
hatred  against  pony  and  owner;  and 
against  every  one  from  Seventeen.  It 
grew  stronger  in  a  universal  public  loyal- 
ty to 

To  what? 

To  a  horse  they  had  not  seen. 

To  a  horse  that  David  Stocking  told 
them  he  had  "  picked  up  " — an  animal  that 
he  vowed  was  so  fleet  that  the  Indian  pony 
would  be  disgraced,  and  its  owners  and 
backers  ruined  and  humiliated. 

And,  strong  in  that  hope,  they  moved 
202 


Selim  Wins  a  Race 

by  scores  down  to  the  course.  The  farmers 
came  in  from  the  surrounding  country; 
residents  of  the  towns  joined  the  throng. 
The  settlements  along  the  canal  for  twenty 
miles  were  depopulated. 

There  were  thousands  at  the  course. 

It  was  a  great  stretch  of  level  turf,  half 
a  mile  long,  with  a  post  to  mark  the  start- 
ing-point— a  tree  at  the  farther  end — and 
a  lane  fifty  feet  wide,  walled  with  people. 
The  horses  would  leave  the  post  side  by 
side.  They  would  run  that  half  mile,  pass 
around  the  tree,  and  come  back,  finishing 
where  they  started. 

And  nothing  but  speed  and  bottom 
could  decide  that  race ;  for  the  arts  of  the 
jockey  were  of  little  use. 

Dan  Eank  had  come  with  the  others. 
He  felt  some  interest  in  the  race,  some 
thrill  of  loyal  hope  that  the  Indian  pony 
from  Seventeen  would  be  beaten,  some  sen- 
timent of  grudge  against  its  friends  for 
former  vanquishings.  But  he  staked  no 
money.  When  bettors  challenged  him  he 
14  203 


The  Outlaws 

[ 

turned  a  deaf  ear.  "When  he  saw  his  Irish 
laborers  risking  their  money,  he  trembled 
for  them.  When  he  saw  the  rising  tide  of 
excitement,  as  the  time  of  starting  drew 
near — the  excitement  which  was  fed  by 
abundant  liquor  and  spurred  by  abound- 
ing antipathy — and  when  he  noted  the  cold 
calculation  of  those  who  had  prepared  the 
running,  a  feeling  of  revulsion  came  to  him, 
and  the  spirit  of  love  for  a  splendid  sport 
almost  vanished. 

They  were  betting  like  mad,  the  pit- 
tance-earning laborers  risking  their  all  on 
the  day.  Big,  dark  Haley,  the  stakeholder, 
jotted  some  marks  on  a  broad  sheet  of  pa- 
per, and  dropped  the  money  into  a  bag. 

Dan  was  in  the  front  rank,  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  starting-point,  and  the 
shout  that  rose  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
course  told  him  the  horses  were  coming, 
and  called  back  his  native  interest. 

They  cantered  lightly  along  from  the 
tree  to  the  start,  the  gray  pony  alive  to  the 
race,  with  a  racer's  understanding  of  it; 
204 


Selim  Wins  a  Race 

the  "unknown,"  simply  a  strong,  young 
animal,  with  fine  limbs  and  a  breadth  of 
breast  that  told  of  staying  powers. 

"If  it  were  two  miles — or  five,"  said 
Dan,  "  the  bay  would  win." 

Haley  was  nervously  hastening  now, 
spurring  the  bettors — urging  them,  sweep- 
ing their  forward-thrust  money  into  his 
canvas  bag,  and  making  but  a  pretense  of 
a  recording. 

As  the  bay  came  nearer,  Dan  Bank 
thought  he  knew  the  animal.  As  it  passed 
him  he  could  have  sworn,  but  for  the  white 
blaze  in  the  face,  that  it  was  Selim.  So 
that,  as  they  took  their  places  and  pre- 
pared to  start,  he  was  the  most  troubled 
man  on  the  course,  though  he  had  wagered 
nothing.  For  this  was  his  horse,  and  it  had 
been  stolen. 

This  was  Selim — his  face  whitened  to 
disguise  him — prepared  to  run  for  out- 
laws, in  the  biggest  race  of  years,  and 
within  twenty  miles  of  his  stable. 

He  struggled  toward  the  nervous,  con- 
2C5 


The  Outlaws 

fused  group  at  the  start.  He  called,  but 
they  were  far  from  him,  and  the  uproar  of 
thousands  drowned  his  voice.  Then  came 
the  hush  of  the  final  moment,  and  the  two 
were  launched  away. 

The  pony  was  ahead,  wise  in  racing; 
the  bay  colt  following,  startled  and  nerv- 
ous. He  was  not  used  to  crowds.  They 
flashed  past  Dan  Rank ;  and  before  he  real- 
ized it  he  found  himself  running  down  the 
course  as  crazy  a  man  as  any  of  the  hun- 
dreds who  loosed  their  clamorous  roar  at 
the  racers. 

The  western  side  of  the  track,  toward 
the  river,  was  the  special  rallying  place  of 
the  pony's  friends.  It  was  the  assembling 
ground  of  the  men  from  Section  Seven- 
teen— of  the  men  from  the  down-river 
towns,  who  had  come  up  for  Lafayette 
money.  And  their  cries  to  the  pony  and 
his  Indian  rider  showed  the  savage  thirst 
of  practised  despoilers. 

Through  the  dust-cloud  Dan  Eank  could 
see  the  two  horses,  and  he  knew  the  pony 
206 


Selim  Wins  a  Race 

was  still  leading.  He  was  calmer  now,  the 
consciousness  of  a  crisis  restoring  his  self- 
command.  He  knew  that  was  Selim,  with 
deceiving  white  blazing  his  face,  as  they 
turned  far  down  at  the  tree.  The  pony 
flashed  about  it,  and  sinking  his  body  for 
the  swifter  work  of  the  legs,  fled  away  to- 
ward the  goal.  He  was  forty  yards  in  the 
lead;  but  the  blaze-face  follower  was  run- 
ning as  he  had  never  run  before.  And  he 
was  eating  up  that  lead  with  a  power  and 
resolve  that  proved  his  quality. 

Down  they  came,  the  Indian  watching, 
the  pony  working  hard,  the  bay  horse  just 
running  at  ease,  but  closing  up  the  gap  till 
he  came  alongside.  And  there,  not  being 
a  practised  racer,  he  settled  down  as  if  by 
a  pacemaker,  his  ears  forward,  his  powers 
unspent. 

And  there  Dan  Eank  yelled  at  him, 
above  the  roar  of  the  mob  that  flocked  in 
behind,  and  swept  toward  the  finish — there 
he  yelled  at  him : 

"Get  down,  Selim!" 
207 


The  Outlaws 

And  in  an  instant  the  bay  colt's  ears 
lapped  back,  and  his  neck  straightened,  and 
he  sped  away,  good  for  another  mile  of  it. 
For  he  had  heard  that  call  on  other  runs — 
and  had  gloried  in  responding.  And  he  fin- 
ished two  lengths  ahead  of  an  Indian  pony 
that  drooped  and  wabbled,  and  coughed  his 
testimony  that  the  race  had  been  too  hard. 

Through  the  throng  about  the  finish 
Dan  Bank  pushed  his  way.  His  great 
strength  was  needed  in  gaining  the  side  of 
his  colt.  He  laid  one  hand  on  the  bit,  and 
the  other  on  that  sweated  forehead — where 
the  white  came  off.  And  the  thin  nose 
rubbed  against  his  shoulder. 

Selim  knew  him,  and  he  was  happy. 

David  Stocking  saw  him,  and  hurried  to 
approach  him. 

"  Take  the  colt  away,"  he  said  to  the 
boy  who  had  ridden. 

"  I'll  take  the  colt,"  said  Dan  Eank. 

"You'll  get  your  neck  broken,  Dan," 
growled  David  Stocking,  the  demon  flash- 
ing in  his  eyes. 

208 


Selim  Wins  a  Race 

"  Not  by  you,  nor  by  any  of  you,"  was 
the  stout  rejoinder.  "  Look  at  this."  And 
he  held  up  his  hand,  and  touched  his  shoul- 
der, both  marked  with  the  white  of  that 
disappearing  blaze.  "  You  lift  a  hand  to 
stop  me,  and  I'll  have  you  in  jail  before 
sundown.  Take  your  winnings.  I'll  take 
my  colt." 

And  he  did. 

He  was  clear  of  the  crowd,  and  petting 
the  head  and  neck  of  the  animal  beside  him, 
proud  of  the  victory  and  half  minded  even 
yet  to  punish  those  who  had  stolen. 

There  he  heard  the  quick  tread  of  a  man 
running.  Looking  over  the  back  of  Selim, 
he  saw  Haley,  with  the  canvas  bag  quite 
full,  gripped  in  his  hand. 

"  Help  me  up.  Help  me  up  on  his  back," 
cried  the  foreman,  excitedly.  He  was  nerv- 
ous, and  half  confused. 

"  Oh,  this  is  your  scheme,  is  it  1 "  asked 
Dan  Rank.  "  Well,  there  are  a  lot  of  men 
looking  for  you — and  their  money — up 
there  in  the  crowd." 

209 


The  Outlaws 

"  Gi'  me  dhe  horse,  Dan,"  commanded 
the  stakeholder. 

A  roar  was  rising  about  the  finish-post. 
The  crowd  of  winners  had  missed  their 
money,  and  the  savage  was  waking  in  them. 

"Haley,  you  thief,"  cried  Dan  Eank 
suddenly,  realizing  the  whole  of  that  heart- 
less plot,  "I'll  give  you  what  you  de- 
serve ! " 

Then  he  turned  to  the  crowd,  and  raised 
his  voice : 

"  Here's  Haley,  men.  Here  he  is,  Cal- 
lahan — Malone.  This  way ! " 

They  came  with  a  rush.  All  the  demons 
of  drink  and  cupidity  and  wild  anger  were 
roused  within  them. 

And  they  had  their  will  with  Haley. 
He  was  beaten  and  trampled,  and  they  took 
his  money  away.  But  he  escaped  them  at 
last,  and  reached  the  river,  hunted  by 
scores  who  had  dodged  from  his  blows  in 
the  past,  pursued  by  other  scores  from  Sec- 
tion Seventeen. 

How  the  cash  was  divided  no  one  could 
210 


Selim  Wins  a  Race 

tell.  There  was  a  court  held  by  the  strong- 
est, and  a  crude  administering  of  justice. 
And  then  there  was  a  pacifying  drink  from 
the  jugs,  and  a  jubilant  departure  for 
that  revel  in  town  which  always  succeeded 
a  horse  race. 

Down  through  the  crowds  Dan  Rank 
led  Selim  to  the  river-road,  and  then 
turned  toward  the  city,  still  caressing  the 
splendid  fellow,  and  breathing  his  love  for 
his  home. 


211 


CHAPTER  XVII 
"i  WILL  GET  PRUDY" 

AND  so  leading  Selim  he  walked  into 
town. 

He  knew  the  crowds  would  follow  him 
later;  that  the  fights  at  the  race-course 
would  be  resumed  at  the  tavern  and  about 
the  streets  all  along  the  canal.  He  knew 
Haley  could  not  come  back,  and  in  the 
thought  that  the  men  would  need  him  came 
the  recognition  of  his  own  opportunity. 

Down  on  Main  Street  he  saw  Seth  Eeed, 
and  called  to  him. 

"  Here's  Selim,"  he  said.  "  He  has  been 
in  a  race  down  at  the  course,  and  has 
won." 

"Why,  Selim's  stole,"  exclaimed  Seth 
Eeed. 

"I  reckon;  but  I  got  him  back.  They 
tried  to  paint  a  blaze  on  his  face,  but  it's 
212 


«I  Will  Get  Prudy" 

washing  off,  you  see.  Will  you  take  him 
home  !  " 

"  Why,  yes." 

For  Seth  saw  an  opportunity.  This 
was  the  first  time  he  had  seen  Dan  Bank 
since  the  Judge's  colts  were  stolen ;  and  he 
remembered  the  neighborhood  theory  that 
this  young  fellow  had  shared  in  that  guilt. 
He  wanted  to  believe  the  story,  for  he 
could  not  quite  forget  the  wrestling  on  his 
own  new  puncheon  floor,  and  the  falls  that 
followed.  But  he  had  grown  very  shrewd ; 
and  this  colt  in  his  possession  was  a  key  to 
unlock  the  hiding-place  of  the  deeply  hated 
Jared  Caruth.  So  he  departed,  consenting. 

But  before  he  went  Dan  Rank  laid  his 
two  arms  about  the  neck  of  the  horse  he 
loved — the  horse  that  was  pulling  at  his 
heart-strings,  and  coaxing  him  back.  And 
then  he  turned  away  to  the  work  he  had 
chosen. 

He  went  back  to  his  place,  at  the  boat- 
house  on  the  canal. 

In  the  evening  a  man  came  hurrying 
213 


The  Outlaws 

down  the  old  roadway  which  had  once  fol- 
lowed the  bends  of  the  river,  but  which  had 
been  abandoned  when  work  on  the  canal 
begun.  Something  in  the  poise  of  the  new- 
comer's body  was  familiar.  It  was  quite 
unlike  the  movement  of  a  laborer. 

"Well,  if  it  isn't  Jared!"  Dan  Kank 
exclaimed,  as  the  wayfarer  approached 
him. 

The  old  fiddler  halted  suddenly,  and 
glanced  about.  He  was  evidently  afraid  to 
run.  Stories  of  hardships  that  had  befall- 
en strangers  who  ventured  among  these 
Irish  settlements  covered  the  country ;  and 
farmers  were  wary  of  them.  Jared  looked 
across  the  slope,  dotted  with  their  cabins, 
and  peered  wistfully  at  the  darkening 
woods  ahead. 

"  Why  don't  you  shake  hands  1 "  de- 
manded Dan  banteringly. 

The  old  man  walked  closer,  and  extend- 
ed his  palm;  but  his  eyes  were  now  out 
across  the  river. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Jared  1 " 
214 


"I  Will  Get  Prudy' 

"Thought   I'd   try   Texas,"    said   the 
veteran,  shifting  his  feet  uneasily. 

"  How  are  the  people  at  home?  " 

"  Oh,  they're  well,  I  guess." 

"You   guess?     When   did   you   come 
away?  " 

"  Well,  I  haven't  met  any  of  them  for 
some  time." 

"  Where  have  you  been?  " 

"  On  the —    On  the  Sand  Islands,  and 
one  place  and  another." 

"  Say,  Jared,  come  in  and  sit  down.    I 
want  you  to  tell  me." 

"  No,  I'd  sooner  stay  out  here.    I  guess 
I'd  better  be  going." 

"Jared,  you're  running  away.     How 
does  that  come  ?  " 

"  Well,  they  found  my  fancy  saddle  on 
one  of  the  Judge's  four-year-olds." 

"Oh,  they  did?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  got  that  about  explained, 
and  then  they  caught  the  two  outlaws  that 
I  let  go  one  day  when  Clark  Thompson  sent 
me  to  lock  them  up." 
215 


The  Outlaws 

"And  those  rascals  betrayed  you?  " 
"  Yes — after  mauling  me  so  I  could  say; 
they  fought." 

"Couldn't  you  explain  that?" 
"Not   when   the    sheriff    found   their 
money  in  my  pocket." 
"  Oh." 

"  I  guess  I'll  be  goin'." 
"Where's  Prudence?" 
"  She's  at  the  cabin,  I  guess." 
"  What  has  she  to  live  on!  " 
He  was  shifting  again  on  those  uneasy 
feet,  and  facing  all  ways  but  to  the  eyes  of 
his  inquisitor. 

"  She's  not  alone,  is  she,  Jared? " 
"  Oh,  the  girls  come  over  sometimes. 
I've  seen  them.  I  can  hide  there  in  the 
horseweeds  in  the  Sand  Islands  and  see 
everything  that  goes  on  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. But  Phil  Whitesell  found  where  I 

was,  and " 

"And  you  left  Prudence,  and  ran  away?" 
"  I'll  come  back  after  a  while.    I'll  send 
money  to  her." 

216 


"I  Will  Get  Prudy' 

Dan  Rank  looked  closer,  and  saw  that 
tears  were  running  down  the  thin  cheeks 
of  the  unhappy  old  scamp.  His  voice  had 
not  betrayed  emotion.  It  was  wholly  cheer- 
ful and  uncomplaining  while  he  told  of 
his  daughter's  abandoning,  as  while  he 
sketched  the  outlines  of  his  own  esca- 
pades. 

"  You're  crying." 

"  Yes — the  smoke  of  your  log  fires " 

"  Jared,  you  haven't  left  that  girl 
alone?" 

"  I  couldn't  bring  her  along."  Then,  as 
if  a  new  thought  occurred  to  him :  "  You 
mustn't  go  up  there.  The  people  in  the 
locks'  neighborhood  think  you  are  an  out- 
law, too." 

"  Well,  they  think  wrong.  I'm  going  to 
get  her." 

"What?" 

"  I'm  going  to  get  that  girl." 

"  I  have  told  you  to  keep  out  of  my 
house." 

"  Never  mind  about  that.  You  haven't 
217 


The  Outlaws 

any  house  now,  you  know.  Are  you  hun- 
gry?" 

"  No,  I  just  had  supper." 

"Where?" 

"  Back  there,  in  an  old  cabin." 

"  Did  you  see  Stocking?  " 

"Yes.  He  said  I  better  go  on  South 
for  a  while.  He's  mad.  He  had  a  horse, 
and  some  one  took  it  away  from  him." 

"  Was  any  one  with  him?  " 

"Yes;  a  big,  black  Irishman,  all 
scratched  up.  Tha's  lots  of  fights  in  town." 

"  Have  you  any  money?  " 

"  Yes.    He  gave  me  enough." 

"Well,  Jared,  I  ought  to  whale  you, 
but " 

"  I  guess  it's  time  for  me  to  be  moving," 
said  the  old  man,  starting  tentatively,  and 
looking  about  with  apprehension.  There 
were  perils  on  every  hand.  He  feared 
those  returning  laborers — many  of  whom 
were  noisy  now,  and  all  of  whom  seemed 
threatening,  and  quite  capable  of  violence. 

"  I  ought  to  give  you  up  to  the  sheriff." 
218 


<c 


I  Will  Get  Prudy 


"  Nice  night,"  said  Jared,  still  a  little 
farther  away. 

"But  I'll  not.  You  keep  out  of  their 
way.  And,  say " 

"Yes?" 

"  Leave  all  Stockings  and  fancy  saddles 
alone." 

"  And  you'll  get  Prudy?  " 

"  I  will." 

"  Looks  like  rain." 

"  Yes,  a  little." 

"Wind's  rising." 

"  Some." 

"  Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  Jared." 

The  old  fellow  was  shuffling  the  leaves 
with  his  feet,  but  he  turned  suddenly,  and 
struck  out  with  a  hurried  step,  his  head 
bowed  forward,  and  a  sound  very  like  a 
sob  redeeming  some  of  the  seeming  which 
had  so  long  condemned  him. 

The  men  saw  him.    One  or  two  pointed 
out  his  hurrying  figure,  and  their  shout 
added  speed  to  his  retreating, 
is  219 


The  Outlaws 

"  Let  him  alone,  men,"  called  Dan  Bank. 
"  He's  my  friend." 

"  Then,  if  he's  yer  fri'nd,  let  him  shtop 
and  have  a  sup  wid  us,  begorry." 

Scores  of  them  took  that  up  with  a 
shout.  They  were  on  all  sides  of  him,  and 
he  paused,  greatly  frightened.  But  he 
took  the  cup  of  liquor  one  proffered,  and 
drank  with  remarkable  relish,  his  eyes  in 
the  tree-tops,  his  shuffling  feet  in  the  rust- 
ling dead  leaves. 

"Have  some  more,"  cried  the  men. 
"  Have  some  more,  and  sing  us  a  song." 

But  Jared  shook  his  head,  still  avoiding 
the  meeting  of  human  eyes. 

"  Let  him  go,  now,"  said  Dan. 

"Lave  him  go,"  was  the  chorused  re- 
joinder. 

And  old  Jared  went  into  the  night  and 
the  woods,  to  a  measureless  wandering. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
LITTLE  PRUDY'S  NEW  HOME 

PRUDENCE  CARUTH  knew  that  her  fa- 
ther was  discredited,  and  that  nothing  but 
his  trapper  cunning  had  saved  him  from 
prison.  She  was  quite  certain  he  was  hid- 
ing over  there  in  the  Sand  Islands,  even 
when  the  sheriff's  posse  came  back  from 
searching  the  place,  mad  with  the  sting  of 
his  treachery,  and  furious  at  his  escape. 

And  the  keenest  of  her  sufferings  came 
when  Selim  was  stolen.  That  was  more 
than  a  personal  loss.  It  was  a  blow  at  the 
man  she  loved,  and  it  added  rage  to  neigh- 
borhood anger  against  outlaws. 

Clark  Thompson,  indeed,  was  the  least 
self -controlled  of  any  of  them.  The  riding 
had  worn  him.  The  strain  of  purpose  and 
effort,  of  fending  against  surprise,  of  in- 
cessant searching,  of  peril  and  resolve,  the 
221 


The  Outlaws 

loss  of  sleep,  and  the  hope  of  capture — all 
this  had  exhausted  his  reserves  of  patience 
and  of  philosophy.  He  was  irritable  to  the 
point  of  tyranny  to  his  men.  And  they, 
who  had  ridden  with  him,  had  come  to  such 
discipline  as  soldiers  know,  brooking  his 
impatience,  and  spending  themselves  ut- 
terly in  his  service. 

They  would  have  rebelled  against  it  as 
domineering  at  the  start.  They  accepted 
it  without  thought  of  demur  at  the  ending. 
So  that  when  he  questioned  Prudence  about 
her  father,  they  strengthened  his  suspi- 
cions with  their  own. 

There  was  peril  for  this  man  who  had 
hoodwinked  them;  and  trouble,  too,  for 
those  he  had  hoodwinked.  The  sheriff 
rated  them  fiercely  for  their  clumsiness  in 
letting  the  prisoner  escape;  and  went  in 
rage — and  alone — after  the  wanderer. 

They  all  believed  Jared  was  still  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  planned  for  his  trap- 
ping, and  their  own  rehabilitation. 

"  Prudy  knows  where  he  is,"  said  Bill 
222 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

Anderson.  "  She  ought  to  be  made  to 
tell." 

"  If  she  don't  tell,  she  is  as  bad  as  her 
father." 

"  That's  it.  She's  an  outlaw — just  like 
the  rest  of  them." 

"  Let's  ketch  her  some  way,  and  scare 
her  into  telling." 

"How?" 

They  sat  that  Saturday  evening  on  the 
rail  of  the  bridge,  and  laid  their  plans  for 
the  girl's  overcoming.  What  considera- 
tion might  have  moved  them  once  was  for- 
gotten now.  The  rage  of  capture,  the  re- 
solve on  Jared's  punishment,  were  ruling 
passions ;  and  all  her  goodness  and  gentle- 
ness, all  her  sacrifice  and  trials  were  as 
nothing  to  them. 

She  was  sadly  alone. 

While  they  rested  there,  Seth  Eeed 
came  to  them,  leading  Selim.  To  their  as- 
tonished questioning  he  answered  in  mys- 
tery. 

"I  got  him,  and  he'll  help  us  catch 
223 


The  Outlaws 

Prudy.    He'll  help  us  make  her  tell  where 
her  father  is  hiding." 

And  they  moved  silently,  in  the  dark  of 
the  evening,  against  her. 

Never  had  solitude  been  so  bitter  to  the 
girl.  The  pretense  she  had  built  about  her 
was  gone.  She  was  face  to  face  with  that 
fate  whose  coming  she  had  expected,  but 
never  confessed,  even  to  herself.  All  the 
world  knew  just  what  she  knew — now. 

The  loom  was  her  solace,  and  there  she 
busied  herself  with  work — the  one  consola- 
tion— till  the  evening  was  gone.  Then  she 
blew  out  her  candle,  and  was  alone  in  the 
dark.  The  woods  were  all  about  her ;  and 
all  who  had  been  her  friends  were  more 
perilous  than  the  woods. 

She  stood  at  the  little  back  window,  and 
looked  across  at  the  Sand  Islands,  trying 
to  pierce  the  shadows  of  the  forest,  to  trace 
the  path  through  the  lowlands,  to  picture 
her  father — and  wish  she  could  wake  and 
find  it  only  one  of  the  old,  distressful 
dreams. 

224 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  ram- 
shackle stable.  Something  of  life  was 
within  its  doors.  She  looked  intently,  with 
growing  fear,  and  saw  the  outlines  of  a 
horse. 

No  beast  of  theirs  had  ever  been  quar- 
tered there.  Not  only  was  this  not  her 
own,  but  its  presence  was  calamity — con- 
viction. She  flushed  with  the  terror  of  that 
discovery,  and  tried  to  solve  the  mystery 
of  it.  She  could  not;  and  she  would  not 
believe  her  father  had  placed  the  animal 
there.  He  was  quite  too  clever  for  that, 
and  he  must  not  be  further  compromised 
by  an  act  as  mad  in  its  blundering  as  in  its 
lawlessness. 

Half  crying,  too  frightened  to  give  way 
to  fear,  she  put  on  her  cloak,  tied  the  plain 
Quaker  hood  on  her  head,  and  slipped  out 
of  the  darkened  house.  She  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  handling  horses,  as  were  most  of 
the  pioneer  girls;  and  that  added  to  the 
heroism  of  her  action.  Unmindful  of  peril 
from  men  who  might  be  hiding  there — 
225 


The  Outlaws 

yet  conscious  of  that — she  went  in  and  took 
hold  of  the  halter.  She  led  out  the  horse, 
thinking  only  of  taking  him  away  from  her 
already  compromised  home,  and  loosing 
him.  •» 

But,  once  outside,  she  recognized  Selim. 
Seth  Reed's  plan  had  been  adopted. 

It  was  impossible  for  her  to  be  mis- 
taken; and  some  thought  that  this  horse 
was  the  property  of  Dan  Rank  led  her  to  a 
new  resolve.  She  would  take  him  home. 
She  would  not  give  that  colt  unsheltered 
to  the  highway.  He  had  been  stolen  away, 
and  she  would  restore  him.  Selim  laid  his 
nose  caressingly  against  her  shoulder — 
and  the  tears  of  a  needed  sympathy  were 
upon  her  cheeks  as  she  hurried  along. 

Less  than  a  hundred  yards  from  her 
home  two  men  stepped  from  the  fence  at 
the  roadside.  She  looked  about,  and  saw 
two  others  behind  her. 

She  was  not  fearless.  She  was  a  timid 
girl.  But  the  time  for  trembling  and  weep- 
ing was  past.  If  great  days  wake  power 
226 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

in  men,  great  need  wakes  it  in  women. 
And  she  walked  unwaveringly:  ahead  till 
they;  stopped  her. 

It  was  the  posse.  She  knew  them,  and 
that  fact  made  them  the  more  dreaded. 

"Caught  you,  haven't  we,  Prudy?" 
asked  Seth  Reed. 

"  Go  pretty  hard  with  you,"  added  Bill 
Anderson. 

"What  will  we  do  with  her!"  asked 
Abe  Ehinehart. 

She  found  a  note  of  mercy  in  his  tone, 
and  turned  toward  him;  but  it  was  hope- 
less. 

"  Take  her  to  jail,  of  course,"  replied 
Phil  Whitesell. 

"Get  her  father  first,  and  take  him 
along,"  suggested  Anderson. 

"Where  is  your  father,  Prudy? " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  you  better  tell,  or  we  will  lock 
you  up  for  horse-stealing." 

"  Where  is  Jared?" 

She  was  silent. 

227 


The  Outlaws 

"  Put  lier  up,"  cried  Anderson.  "  Put 
her  on  the  horse  she  has  stolen." 

"  Make  her  ride  right  up  to  jail." 

It  was  a  pretty  severe  trial  to  them; 
yet  they  would  have  confessed  to  no  weak 
pity  had  the  victim  been  child  of  their 
own. 

"  Take  hold  of  her  arms,  and  lift  her 
up." 

"  Leave  me  alone,"  she  screamed  shrilly 
as  they  advanced  toward  her. 

"  You've  got  to  ride  that  horse  to  jail, 
Prudy,  unless  you  tell  where  Jared  is  hid- 
ing." 

"  Then  I  will  get  up  myself.  Keep 
away  from  me." 

"  Well,  hurry.  But,  Prudy,  if  you  will 
show  us  where  he  is,  we  will  let  you " 

"  I  tell  you  I  don't  know  where  he  is." 

"  This  is  your  last  chance." 

She  made  no  reply.    She  led  the  colt 

close  to  the  fence,  and  mounted — somewhat 

clumsily.     And  Selim,  frightened  at  the 

unused  burden,  or  knowing  more  of  the  sit- 

228 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

nation  than  men  imagine  horses  can  under- 
stand, bounded  forward,  tossed  his  head, 
flung  his  heels,  and  left  a  startled,  non- 
plussed quartet  behind  him. 

They  shouted  and  ran.  And  the  colt 
ran  the  faster — maybe  still  frightened; 
maybe  in  a  paroxysm  of  laughter  at 
the  outwitting — head  down,  breath  sup- 
pressed, and  the  little  hoofs  beating  a  ket- 
tledrum tattoo  from  the  hard  earth  of  the 
highway.  And  poor  Prudence,  uncertain 
of  the  seat,  but  suddenly  glad  the  peril  was 
of  a  bodily  kind,  clung  to  the  mane,  and 
held  on. 

It  was  but  a  moment,  and  they  were  at 
the  yard  gate  of  Absalom  Rank's  farm; 
and  out  of  the  door  came  father  and  moth- 
er, and  ruddy  girls,  all  called  by  the  com- 
motion in  the  road,  and  the  running  of 
men.  And  with  them  was  a  tall,  young  fel- 
low, in  Sunday  clothes,  with  the  black 
slouch  hat  of  the  period — a  young  fellow, 
lank  in  limb,  and  angular,  with  the  forward 
tilt  of  the  body  that  goes  with  great 
229 


The  Outlaws 

strength,  and  tireless  powers,  and  which 
promises  length  of  days. 

Prudence,  unused  to  riding  even  with 
a  saddle,  could  do  no  more  than  tumble — 
slowly,  clutchingly — as  Selim  stopped,  as 
he  blew  from  dilated  nostrils  a  blast  of  de- 
fiance and  challenge  to  all  posses  soever. 
But  before  her  feet  touched  the  ground  the 
arms  of  the  strong  young  man  were  about 
her. 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  said  Dan  Rank. 
"  They  have  tried  to  make  it  seem  that  you 
stole  Selim,  and  you  have  brought  him 
home.  And  now  they  are  after  you.  Fa- 
ther, put  up  the  colt."  And  as  he  kissed 
his  mother  and  patted  the  sisters  with 
the  big,  brotherly  hand,  he  added :  "  Pru- 
dence and  I  are  going.  We  are  going 
home.  We  will  come  back  together  next 
time.  And  if  those  fellows  make  any 
trouble  around  here,  call  me,  and  I'll 
come  and  duck  the  whole  posse  in  the 
canal." 

They  could  not  follow  all  of  his  reason- 
230 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

ing;  and  they  had  been  so  radiant  at  his 
home-coming,  so  exalted  at  his  good  ac- 
count of  himself,  so  abundantly  thankful 
generally,  that  the  posse  found  less  up- 
braiding than  it  deserved  when  the  four 
panting  men  gathered  at  the  gate. 

"  Where's  Prudy?  "  demanded  Bill  An- 
derson. 

"  Which  of  you  put  my  colt  into  her  sta- 
ble? "  demanded  Absalom  Bank.  "  Which 
of  you  led  the  others  to  chase  that  poor 
girl  that  never  did  a  wrong  thing  in  her 
life?  You  are  a  nice  lot  of  neighbors. 
Ain't  you  ashamed  of  yourselves  ?  " 

They  held  a  little  council.  It  was  in- 
formal enough.  They  were  half  dazed  at 
the  outcome  of  their  maneuver,  and  the 
view  that  they  were  themselves  breakers 
of  the  law  they  were  trying  to  uphold, 
brought  a  new  fear.  Not  one  believed  the 
girl  had  part  in  any  outlawry,  though 
they  did  believe  she  could  solve  the  riddle 
of  Jared's  hiding;  and  they  were  still  in- 
tense in  their  determination  to  capture 
231 


The  Outlaws 

him,  and  administer  the  punishment  his 
offenses  and  his  treachery  merited. 

The  real  groundwork  of  their  reasoning 
was  the  sure  conclusion  of  right.  They 
may  have  erred  in  their  procedure,  but  that 
basis  justified  them.  And  Bill  Anderson, 
strutting  a  little  to  simulate  the  indigna- 
tion he  could  hardly  feel,  warned  Absalom 
Bank  that  he  was  harboring  an  outlaw,  and 
that  he  would  reap  trouble  for  his  pay. 
But  he  knew  his  cause  was  weak.  He 
wished  Clark  Thompson  was  with  them. 

Besides,  tKe  sisters  of  Dan  Rank  railed 
at  him  for  clumsiness ;  and  ridicule  routed 
where  force  would  have  failed. 

Then  they  went  back  to  the  Caruth  cab- 
in, and  watched  all  night — and  longer — for 
some  sign  of  outlaw  father  or  quick-witted 
girl. 

As  for  Dan  Eank,  he  cared  little  for 
pursuit.  He  took  the  way  across  the  nar- 
row field  to  the  canal;  and  beside  him 
walked,  in  the  glow  of  a  great  happiness, 
the  woman  he  loved.  For  the  arm  that  had 
232 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

been  the  solace  of  her  dreams,  her  hopes  in 
waking  hours,  was  about  her  now — and 
evermore.  She  was  sure  of  that.  She  was 
sure  the  door  of  the  old  life,  with  its  pain 
and  anxiety  beyond  the  knowledge  of  most 
girls,  was  closed,  and  would  not  open 
again.  And  the  peace  of  the  stars  was  in 
her  heart,  and  the  joy  of  the  world  all 
about  her. 

"Prudy,  can  you  walk  to  the  locks?" 
asked  the  young  man.  "  There  are  plenty 
of  horses  in  the  barn,  but  people  don't  want 
you  and  me  to  ride." 

"  Yes,  I  can." 

Walk  with  him?  She  would  have  put 
no  limitation  on  that  companionship,  no 
bounds  to  the  labor  she  would  willingly 
bear  with  him. 

They  made  no  effort  at  concealment, 
took  no  measures  to  avoid  being  seen.  The 
towpath  was  a  highway  for  every  one,  a 
thoroughfare  where  all  without  offense 
might  travel  freely.  And  they  walked 
there. 

233 


The  Outlaws 

They  came  to  the  locks.  A  packet  from 
the  West  was  rising  with  the  inrushing 
waters.  A  packet  from  the  East  was 
awaiting  its  turn. 

"  We  will  go  on  board,"  said  Dan. 

The  cabin  was  gay  with  lights,  and 
noisy  with  many  people.  Their  destination 
was  near,  and  some  had  completed  prepa- 
ration for  disembarking. 

At  another  time  Prudence  Caruth 
would  have  flinched,  as  any  woman  might, 
from  the  ordeal ;  for  she  was  dressed  in  the 
simplest  of  home  frocks,  with  only  the  gray 
silk  hood  of  the  Quakers  framing  her  pret- 
ty face.  But  the  young  man  beside  her — 
graceful  for  once  in  spite  of  his  long  limbs 
and  his  abounding  strength,  graceful  be- 
cause he  was  dignified  with  the  love  of  the 
woman  beside  him — put  her  at  all  ease. 

He  could  not  have  borne  himself  more 
royally  had  he  owned  the  packet  and  all 
its  stores. 

They  sat  there  chatting,  unmindful  of 
the  interested  eyes  that  studied  them.  Dan 
234 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

paid  the  trifle  demanded  for  transporta- 
tion, and  dismissed  even  the  captain  with 
a  nod. 

The  first  lights  of  the  town  were  visible 
when  a  gentle  hand  was  laid  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  a  kindly  voice  said  in  his 
ear: 

"  Are  you  running  away !  " 

He  looked  up  slowly,  gathering  for  such 
reply  as  occasion  might  demand,  equally 
willing  for  either  friend  or  opposer.  But 
he  met  the  bright,  steady  gaze  of  Mr.  Pat- 
terson, the  inspector. 

"Are  you  running  away,  Dan?  " 

"Yes — both  of  us,"  he  replied.  And 
Prudence,  brought  into  the  indictment, 
joined  in  the  plea  of  guilty  with  her  smile. 

"  Both  of  us,"  repeated  Dan  Bank,  mak- 
ing room  on  a  chair  near  by  for  his  supe- 
rior. "  And  you  can  do  me  a  favor." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad,  and — "  he  added 
quickly,  with  a  perception  for  which  Pru- 
dence was  grateful — "  so  will  my  wife." 

"  Thanks.  Then  this  is  Prudence  Ca- 
16  235 


The  Outlaws 

ruth,  Mr.  Patterson.  I  want  you  to  find  for 
me  a  county  clerk  and  a  minister." 

"  To-night ?  Why  not  leave  her  with  us, 
and  come  after  her  to-morrow !  " 

"  No ;  I  will  keep  her  from  now  out," 

If  there  was  embarrassment  for  the  girl 
in  the  discussion,  however  brief,  it  was  ban- 
ished by  the  gentle  considerateness  of  the 
stranger  as  much  as  by  the  tone  of  her 
lover.  She  would  never  be  lonely — never 
be  alone — again. 

"Will  you  help  me?" 

"  Certainly,  Dan.  When  did  you  leave 
the  work?  " 

"  At  dusk." 

"You  have  been  making  pretty  good 
time,  haven't  you? " 

"  Well,  I  haven't  wasted  much." 

"Are  you  interested  in  Mr.  Bank's 
work,  Mrs. — Miss  Prudence  ?  " 

She  turned  her  blue  eyes  full  upon  him, 
a  twinkle  bubbling  into  them,  and  absolute 
truth  all  about  her. 

"  I  don't  even  know  what  he  is  doing." 
236 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

For  a  moment  the  superintendent  was 
dumb.  Then  he  bowed  to  Dan  Rank. 

"  She  trusts  you  amazingly,"  he  said. 
"  I  am  glad  to  tell  you,  Miss  Prudence,  he 
will  never  betray  your  confidence." 

And  his  reward  was  in  those  twinkling 
eyes — bright  with  the  promise  of  happy 
tears. 

"My  dear,"  he  added,  "Dan  Rank  is 
the  best  foreman  on  the  canal,  and  he  is 
like  to  be  more.  My  house  is  your  home 
till  he  can  place  you  better,  whenever  that 
may  be." 

"  She  will  go  with  me  down  to  the  sec- 
tion," said  Dan.  "  We  will  fit  up  that  old 
boat  till  it  will  look  like  a  home.  I  think 
she  will  be  better  contented  there." 

"  Not  to-night.  You  will  stay  with  us 
to-night,  and  go  down  there  in  the  morn- 
ing. Let  me — and  my  wife — arrange  it." 

"  Very  well.    Go  ahead." 

That  was  by  no  means  an  unknown  de- 
mand to  which  the  county  clerk  listened. 
He  was  easily  found ;  for  though  the  hour 
237 


The  Outlaws 

was  late  his  hours  were  later.  And  he 
dropped  a  hand  of  cards  in  the  tavern  bar- 
room, with  the  chance  of  winning  much,  to 
earn  in  office  the  certainty  of  a  fee  that  was 
small.  And  after  that  it  was  easy  to  find  a 
minister;  for  although  the  night  was  old, 
his  heart  was  young.  His  habits  were 
primitive,  and  he  was  safely  in  bed ;  but  he 
arose,  and  brought  to  the  wedding  his  good 
wife.  And  the  inspector  called  in  two  of 
the  canal  officials,  and  their  wives  came 
along.  They  took  little  Prudence  and 
dressed  her  hair,  and  bathed  her  hands, 
and  kissed  her  with  much  encouraging,  so 
that  she  went  to  her  wedding  happily;  so 
that  she  took  her  vows  proudly.  For  the 
good  of  the  whole  world  and  its  decorum 
and  its  men  and  women  were  her  friends 
and  her  handmaidens. 

After  that  there  was  a  pretty  little  sup- 
per in  Mrs.  Patterson's  dining-room — for 
the  embryo  city  had  resources  which,  when 
occasion  demanded,  were  ample.  So  much 
of  Dan's  story  as  he  thought  prudent,  he 
238 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

told  them.  The  rest  they  framed  from 
their  fancy,  and  embellished  from  the 
wardrobes  of  romance.  And  the  whole 
company  stood  at  midnight,  and  drank  to 
the  health  of  bride  and  groom — the  min- 
ister by  no  means  declining  his  portion. 

The  men  on  the  canal  had  been  left 
alone  more  than  once;  and  it  was  never 
productive  of  the  best  results.  Too  long 
oppressed  into  inaction,  too  long  strangers 
to  self-reliance  and  initiative,  they  turned 
in  their  new  liberty  to  a  frolic  view  of  all 
life.  They  were  not  more  contentious  than 
other  men,  but  they  found  for  the  first  time 
that  all  men  were  equal;  and  they  fought 
cheerfully,  fiercely,  but  without  real  anger, 
because  without  real  care  for  the  result; 
because  resistance  was  a  luxury  long  de- 
nied, and  now  absolutely  free. 

They  drank  somewhat  more  than  they 
should ;  but  they  paid  for  it  when  they  de- 
voted themselves  by  the  thousand  to  the 
malaria-cursed  employment  that  no  other 
band  of  men  would  have  persisted  in. 
239 


The  Outlaws 

And  because  of  all  these  things,  they 
were  idle  unless  led.  And  the  bane  of  that 
age-old  oppression  has  not  passed.  Yet 
they  followed  farther  and  more  faithfully 
than  any  other  race  that  has  left  its  story 
in  the  records  of  men. 

Dan  Eank  and  his  bride  went  on  Sun- 
day to  their  new  home.  The  canal  was  not 
ready,  but  the  river  was  there,  and  it  bore 
them — and  a  load  of  furniture,  and  some 
presents — to  the  very  door  of  their  odd 
habitation;  for  the  woods  were  already 
warm  and  soft  with  the  bannering  of 
spring. 

The  workmen  and  their  wives  watched 
the  boat  at  the  landing,  and  as  Dan  Eank 
stepped  ashore  a  dozen  laborers  hurried  to 
help  him  with  the  parcels.  And  Pru- 
dence's first  view  of  them  brought  the  im- 
pression of  kindliness — of  warm  hearts 
and  willing  hands  for  her  service. 

She  was  installed  in  the  curious  dwell- 
ing; and  the  first  hours  of  her  occupancy 
of  that  little  throne  that  is  prized  by  all 
240 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

good  women  were  given  to  a  most  diligent 
season  of  planning.  Spring  was  here,  and 
the  woods  and  the  vines  would  help  her. 
The  dull  craft  would  gather  new  graces 
from  within  and  without,  and  would  float 
such  a  cargo  of  riches  as  it  never  had  borne 
in  all  its  treasure-laden  years. 

Dan  Bank  went  out  at  noon,  and  called 
the  men  toward  him.  They  came,  and  their 
women  and  the  children  came  along.  And 
Prudence,  deep  in  her  dream  of  beautify- 
ing, felt  both  the  dignity  and  the  obliga- 
tion of  such  a  wifehood. 

They  had  need  of  her. 

Her  husband  stood  at  the  plank,  and  ad- 
dressed them. 

"  Men,  I  have  brought  my  wife  to  live 
with  me  here.  We  were  married  last  night. 
I  know  you  will  be  good  to  her."  He  beck- 
oned, and  she  came  and  stood  near  him. 
"  There  must  be  no  disturbance  about  the 
boat-house.  I  want  her  to  like  you  as  well 
as  I  do.  That's  all — only  there  is  a  meas- 
ure of  tea  in  the  storeroom  for  each  of 
241 


The  Outlaws 

you ;  and  some  meal  and  some  meat.  The 
canal  company  sends  the  meat.  The  tea  is 
my  wedding-present — and  some  smoking 
tobacco.  That's  all." 

It  was  near  the  old  fort  of  Ouiatonon — 
where  Frenchmen  had  flourished  a  hun- 
dred years  before;  where  Indians  had 
gathered  in  throngs;  where  soldiers  and 
traders  had  made  jubilation  in  peace  and 
revel  at  the  end  of  wars.  But  never  had 
the  old  trees  heard  such  a  shout  of  greeting 
as  this  which  welcomed  little  Prudence  to 
her  heritage. 

There  is  something  comprehensible  in 
that  language  which  speaks  from  the  heart 
unsyllabled;  which  stirs  the  unexpressed 
in  the  pulses  of  men.  And  the  soul  of  the 
girl  understood,  and  accepted  the  pledges 
of  greeting  and  protection — accepted  them, 
and  yearned  for  an  adequate  reply.  For  in 
the  swell  and  sincerity  of  it  she  forgot  the 
manner  of  men,  the  appearance  of  women. 
All  the  ill  sights  of  the  crowded  slope,  the 
white  faces  of  the  sick  at  the  cabin  doors — 
242 


Little  Prudy's  New  Home 

many  sorrowful  from  yesterday's  race  and 
revel — the  scant  clothing,  the  half -barbar- 
ous tones — it  was  all  washed  from  her 
memory  with  the  surging  wave  of  that  sen- 
timent which  links  all  human  hearts  to- 
gether. 


243 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE   SHERIFF   CAPTURED 

CLARK  THOMPSON  did  not  find  his  fu- 
gitive. 

There  was  a  report  that  a  thin  man,  no 
longer  young,  the  worse  for  the  lack  of  a 
coat  and  a  "  wa'mus,"  was  hurrying  across 
the  country  north;  and  he  rode  after  him. 
He  forgot  food  and  rest,  and  life's  limita- 
tion, till  his  stout  mare  staggered  and  fell. 
Then  he  borrowed  another,  and  rode  on. 
There  was  something  like  murder  burning 
in  his  heart.  Once  he  thought  he  saw  Jared 
stooping  and  skulking  through  the  woods, 
and  he  put  away  his  pistol,  for  his  naked 
hands  were  tingling  and  trembling  to  stran- 
gle him. 

It  was  not  Jared ;  and  when  the  second 
horse  stumbled  on  a  steep  hill,  Clark 
Thompson  stopped  to  consider. 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

He  was  thirsty,  and  he  kneeled  at  a 
brook  for  a  drink.  And  the  ghastly  face 
and  bloodshot  eyes  that  looked  up  at  him 
brought  a  sharp  surprise. 

"  I  must  take  care  of  myself,"  he  said. 
"  Jared  is  wearing  me  out." 

The  main  purpose  was  not  disturbed. 
Nothing  could  displace  that.  He  would 
catch  that  chief  of  all  culprits,  and  punish 
him.  This  was  the  one  sure  thing.  But  he 
found  he  must  not  waste  his  wits.  That 
reprobate  demanded  the  best  that  pursuit 
could  bring. 

He  had  swept  the  arc  of  a  circle  from 
the  Tippecanoe  around  to  the  Wildcat,  and 
was  convinced  that  Jared  could  not  have 
fled  up  country  at  all.  More  likely  he  was 
bound  down  the  valley,  and  good  time  was 
already  lost. 

Sunday  morning  the  sheriff  took  a 
third  horse,  and,  declining  the  food  which 
a  shrewd  farmer  offered,  hurried  straight 
west  toward  Lafayette,  and  the  road  down 
the  river. 

245 


The  Outlaws 

Time  and  again  he  found  himself  gal- 
loping along,  leaning  forward,  straining 
his  eyes  through  the  thicket,  intent  and  un- 
conscious. He  would  gather  his  faculties, 
pull  down  his  horse  to  a  walk,  although  it 
was  torturingly  slow;  would  find  he  had 
passed  unobservingly  the  homes  of  men 
who — as  sheriff  and  politician — he  should 
have  hailed,  at  least.  And  before  he  knew 
it  he  would  be  urging  the  horse  forward 
again.  He  galloped  out  on  the  Plank 
Eoad,  and  held  straight  down  the  course 
old  Jared  had  taken.  Two  miles  south  it 
bent  to  the  right,  and  was  cut  across  in 
many  places  by  the  building  canal.  Mate- 
rial was  scattered  about.  Rapid  riding 
was  impossible.  Yet  he  must  hurry  if 
Jared  be  overtaken. 

Immigrants  loitered  at  intervals,  some 
going  toward  town,  some — unsteady  and 
boisterous,  frequently  quarreling  and  oc- 
casionally fighting — passing  toward  the 
work.  He  could  understand  they  might 
molest  and  delay  him.  He  was  in  no  sort 
246 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

of  fear  of  them,  but  was  perfectly  con- 
scious that  they  could  cause  him  to  lose 
time.  He  had  turned  from  the  channel 
with  the  purpose  of  reaching  the  Attica 
road,  where  he  might  ride  to  the  full  bent 
of  his  burning,  driving  impulse  for  cap- 
ture. And  just  then  he  saw  Doctor  Borton 
picking  his  way  toward  home,  the  stout  gig 
tipping  and  bounding  as  it  found  obstruc- 
tion, but  always  righting ;  the  good  physi- 
cian's body  meanwhile  tossing  and  bound- 
ing, but  never  losing  its  seat. 

"  Hello,  Sh-sheriff,"  he  called  between 
jolts. 

"Hello!" 

"  What  are  you  after  d-down  here !  " 

The  sheriff  had  a  crafty  thought  that  he 
must  not  mention  Jared's  name.  Even  this 
doctor  might  be  the  outlaw's  friend.  And 
he  said  nothing. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  n-needed  sleep." 

No  reply. 

"Go  on  d-down  there  to  Dan  Kank's 
house,  and  t-turn  in." 
24T 


The  Outlaws 

That  roused  him. 

"Dan  Bank's  house?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  he  working  on  the  canal? " 

"  Why,  yes.  He's  f-f oreman.  He  mar- 
ried Prudence  C-Caruth,  and  he  lives  down 
there  in  a  boat-house." 

The  gig  had  not  paused  in  its  jolting 
progress,  and  it  did  not  pause,  even  then. 
The  doctor  published  his  news,  and  drove 
straight  on. 

And  the  sheriff  stopped  his  horse,  ex- 
cited, and  saying  to  himself: 

"  Now,  think  quick.  Do  the  best  thing. 
YouVe  treed  your  man." 

Half-way  to  the  Attica  road  he  dis- 
mounted, and  turned  his  horse  loose  in  the 
woods.  He  puzzled  over  that  a  little.  It 
did  not  seem  right  to  abandon  a  horse; 
but  he  impatiently  dismissed  the  matter. 
He  must  creep  up  close,  and  find  the 
boat-house.  That  monster,  that  traitor, 
that  Jared  Caruth,  would  be  somewhere 
near. 

248 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

He  was  going  back  on  foot  toward  the 
canal.  He  heard  voices,  and  crept  near, 
as  beasts  of  prey  creep.  The  victim  might 
be  even  here. 

No — the  speech  was  in  the  thick  brogue 
of  an  Irishman. 

But  another  voice  replied,  and  in  the 
purest  English.  He  went  still  nearer. 

One  was  a  big,  dark  man,  vehement  of 
utterance,  battered  of  face,  and  volubly 
profane.  The  other  was  slender,  well- 
dressed,  dapper,  and  graceful. 

The  sheriff  knew  that  man.  It  was 
David  Stocking.  He  had  gone  untrapped 
through  the  perils  of  Saturday,  and  was 
holding  by  stealth  a  conference  with  the 
man  whose  appearance  would  have  sum- 
moned a  mob,  and  ended  his  life. 

Clark  Thompson  crept  past  them,  leav- 
ing them  planning  villainy. 

A  little  farther  along  was  a  cabin  quite 

away  from  the  canal,  in  the  fringe  of  the 

woods.     An  Irishman  was  sitting  in  the 

sun  at  the  door,  and  shivering — an  Irish- 

249 


The  Outlaws 

man  with  the  clothing  and  stains  of  a  la- 
borer. 

"  If  I  had  such  clothes,"  mused  the 
sheriff,  "I  could  get  anywhere  among 
them,  and  watch." 

The  thought  brought  an  uplift  of  hope- 
ful promise.  There  was  a  stir  of  pride  at 
it.  He  regarded  it  as  clever.  He  believed 
his  mind  was  all  right.  He  had  thought 
out  a  wise  plan. 

"  What  will  you  take  for  your  clothes  1 " 
he  asked. 

The  Irishman  looked  up,  the  blue  eyes 
flashing  from  a  face  of  pain.  The  ague  was 
on  him,  else  that  question  which  seemed  to 
convey  insult — the  ridicule  of  his  shabby 
dress — would  have  bred  a  conflict  right  at 
the  threshold  of  strategy.  Clark  mistook 
the  cause  of  hesitation,  and  missed  the 
menace  altogether.  Of  course  the  man  had 
no  other  garments.  Gratified  anew  at  the 
second  proof  of  reasonable  processes,  he 
advanced  and  spoke  kindly,  employing  a 
cordial  tone : 

250 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

"  I'll  give  you  a  dollar  to  trade  clothes 
with  me." 

The  Irishman  was  sick.  He  was  quak- 
ing in  the  grasp  of  malaria,  and  the  ice  of 
disease  was  in  his  veins ;  but  he  knew  a  bar- 
gain. He  saw  that  dotted  fawnskin  vest; 
and  he  nodded. 

"  Phwere's  your  dollar  ?  " 

The  sheriff  took  a  bill  from  his  wallet, 
and  tendered  it. 

They  were  alone  in  the  cabin. 

The  sheriff  came  out  in  the  Sunday  twi- 
light, dressed  as  a  laborer,  proud  of  his 
exploit,  intent  on  his  crafty  hunt,  but  dizzy. 
He  could  not  at  all  times  be  sure  what  it 
was  he  meant  to  do ;  and  he  sat  down  with 
the  feeling  that  he  would  remember  pres- 
ently, and  proceed.  And  there  Haley  and 
Stocking  found  him. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  recognize  him,  nor 
to  understand  that  he  was  following  Jared. 
It  was  not  difficult  to  lead  him  into  the 
deeper  woods.  The  thing  became  quite  a 
joke  to  them. 

17  251 


The  Outlaws 

"  He's  been  hurted,"  said  Haley,  exam- 
ining the  limp,  unresisting  officer. 

"  His  head  has  gone  wrong,"  said  Stock- 
ing. "  That's  what  broke  him  down.  He 
don't  know  whether  he  is  sheriff,  or  the 
admiral  of  the  fleet.  Do  you,  Clark!  " 

It  was  true  enough;  and  the  man  who 
was  become  a  terror  to  them  made  no  pro- 
test, spoke  no  word. 

Two  weeks  later  court  was  in  session. 

But  it  adjourned  in  the  middle  of  a  trial 
one  day,  for  ill  news  had  come. 

A  bailiff,  leaning  from  the  window  to 
call  three  times  for  parties  defendant,  saw 
people  hurrying  to  a  group  of  men  who 
were  carrying  something  down  at  the  cor- 
ner. There  were  four  of  them,  and  the 
burden  between  them — a  burden  hidden 
and  covered  by  a  pall  of  black — a  bur- 
den which,  like  a  magnet,  drew  a  throng 
from  the  packet  landing,  drew  clerks  from 
the  stores,  drew  crowds  from  the  street. 
No  loud  word  was  uttered.  The  town 
was  still.  But  the  people  knew,  even  be- 
252 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

fore  the  message  fell,  the  presence  of  dis- 
aster. 

"What's  up!"  asked  the  bailiff,  in  a 
work-a-day  tone ;  and  it  sounded  a  discord 
in  the  hushed  air. 

One,  hurrying  to  retail  the  news, 
paused  to  fling  up  a  reply : 

"  They've  found  the  sheriff." 

"Alive?" 

"No.    Dead." 

"Where?" 

"In  one  of  them  old  cabins  that  the 
canalers  used  to  have." 

"Who  found  him?" 

"  Dan  Rank,  a  foreman." 

"  How  did  Clark  come  to  be  there  1 " 

"  Clark  has  been  there  ever  since  that 
Sunday  after  the  race." 

"  Oh." 

A  pause  in  which  fearful  fancy  was 
busy.  Then  the  messenger  volunteered : 

"  They  knew  him  by  his  clothes — that 
fawnskin  vest,  and  his  papers." 

That  was  all. 

253 


The  Outlaws 

The  bailiff  fled  back  to  the  court-room, 
and  interrupted  a  browbeating  lawyer, 
deep  in  the  fire  of  cross-examination.  The 
bailiff  spoke  loud  and  informally;  and 
judge,  jury,  bar,  hangers-on  went  thunder- 
ing to  the  stairway,  and  poured  themselves 
into  the  massed  crowd  that  pressed — numb, 
speechless,  horrified,  viewing  IT ! 

As  the  crowd  dissolved  from  about  that 
body  at  the  street  corner,  now  consigned 
to  official  care,  to  the  public's  mournful 
custody,  Dan  Eank  felt  the  pressure  of  a 
tall  man  against  his  shoulder,  and  glanced 
about  to  meet  the  eyes  of  David  Stocking. 

Solemn  as  was  the  hour,  sad  as  was  the 
incident  which  discovery  had  established, 
the  graceful  stranger  was  humming  a  bit 
of  a  song;  and  there  was  a  jubilant  light 
on  his  face  which  was  far  from  comport- 
ing with  the  spirit  of  the  town. 

"  Come  on.  I  want  to  see  you,"  said  the 
sailor. 

They  walked  slowly.  Every  one  moved 
slowly;  but  there  was  more  than  the  im- 
254 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

pressiveness  of  a  death  in  Dan's  unhurry- 
ing  step.  He  had  thought  a  good  deal  of 
this  David  Stocking,  this  hero  who  came 
out  of  the  East;  and  he  could  yet  see  all 
the  charm  of  that  smile,  all  the  winning 
power  of  the  man's  presence. 

But  they  were  not  now  traveling  the 
same  road. 

"Where   are  you   going?"   he   asked 
presently. 

"  Come  down  to  the  tavern." 
"  I  don't  think  there  is  anything  at  the 
tavern  that  I  want,"  replied  Dan  Eank. 

"  There  will  be  something  there  in  about 
two  minutes  that  you  can  not  get  along 
without." 
"What?" 

"  Myself.    I  will  be  there." 
"  Well,  I  won't.    Then  what?  " 
David  Stocking  met  the  blue  eyes  fair- 
ly and  firmly,  the  smile  in  his  own  for  an 
instant ;  and  then  Dan  Eank  saw  the  lines 
harden,  and  the  look  change  from  genial- 
ity to  menace.    It  was  not  a  frown,  nor  a 
255 


The  Outlaws 

clouded  brow.  It  was  simply  a  change  of 
the  man  inside — a  reversal  of  the  temper 
and  purpose  in  one  who  was  self -controlled. 

"  Dan,  I  offered  you  a  good  thing  when 
you  first  came  down  here.  There  is  the 
spot  where  we  stood.  Do  you  remember? 
It  was  at  night.  A  freight  boat  was  un- 
loading here ;  and  something  had  happened 
up-country  that  night  while  you  were  here 
in  town.  By  the  way,  there  comes  the 
Lewis  Cass  again.  Remember  her?  " 

But  he  suddenly  dropped  that  topic,  and 
turned  so  as  to  divert  Dan's  eyes  from  the 
packet,  just  warping  to  a  landing. 

"  Well,  let  me  tell  you  something.  Clark 
Thompson  knew  you  had  nothing  to  do  with 
stealing  those  colts  of  Judge  Evans.  I 
told  him  so  next  day.  But  do  you  know 
where  Clark  Thompson  is  now?  " 

Dan  glanced  at  the  corner  windows  of 
the  court-house,  shading  his  eyes  from  the 
afternoon  sun,  and  shaded  more  deeply  be- 
cause behind  them  lay,  in  rough  state,  the 
body  he  had  found. 

256 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

"  That's  it,"  pursued  Stocking.  "  The 
man  who  could  clear  you  is  gone.  The  peo- 
ple up  in  your  home  neighborhood  still 
class  you  as  an  outlaw,  and  now  that  every 
one  is  telling  how  you  found  Clark,  they 
will  be  down  here  making  you  trouble.  The 
people  at  the  tavern  do  as  I  tell  them.  You 
know  that.  Now,  you  don't  want  to  be  ar- 
rested, nor  have  any  disgrace.  You  are 
just  married.  You  are  fast  getting  up  with 
the  canal  people." 

"Well?"  The  young  fellow  had  fol- 
lowed the  argument,  and  could  pretty  near- 
ly see  the  end.  "  Well — and  then  what?  " 

"  Don't  be  so  stiff.  You  can  make  more 
money  by  favoring  me  a  little — I  mean 
we  can  both  make  more  money  by  work- 
ing together — than  any  one  can  alone. 
You  outplayed  me  the  day  of  the  race 
by  taking  the  colt  away.  But  I  overlook 
that." 

"Well?" 

The  tone  was  more  imperative,  and 
more  warning. 

25Y 


The  Outlaws 

"You  have  the  confidence  of  the  com- 
pany. They  have  oceans  of  money.  A  lit- 
tle hint  from  you  now  and  then — a  word  to 
me — you  understand " 

"Hold  up,  Stocking.  You  can't  even 
talk  to  me  that  way.  And  say:  you  are 
making  a  mistake.  You  are  clever.  You 
could  manage  good  men  just  as  easily  as 
bad  men.  And,  if  you  want  money,  you 
will  find  good  men  have  more  of  it  than 
any  one  else.  Say :  I  liked  you  at  first.  I 
don't  like  you  so  well  now.  You  charmed 
me.  You  can  charm  any  one,  I  believe. 
,Why  don't  you  quit  that  crowd  at  the  tav- 
ern, and  try  the  crowd  that  suspects  the 
tavern?  " 

"  Don't  preach,  Dan." 

"  I'm  not  preaching.  But  you  don't 
know  how  a  young  fellow  can  like  a  man 
of  your  sort.  I  never  could  feel  anything 
but  kindness  for  you,  no  matter  what  hap- 
pened. You  can  rule  men,  though  you  ruin 
them.  Why  don't  you  rule  the  right  kind 
of  men?  " 

258 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

"  You're  going  too  fast,  Dan,"  was  the 
reply.  "  You  know  what  I  want  in  this 
country.  Let  me  tell  you  I  am  getting  it. 
You  can  have  money — money — money,  if 
you  do  what  I  want  you  to.  If  they  arrest 
you  for  horse-stealing,  and  I  keep  still,  you 
are  done  for — always.  Which  do  you 
choose  7 " 

"It's  which  do  you  choose,  Stocking. 
You  are  going  to  need  me  a  heap  more 
than  I  will  need  you." 

"  Then  don't  blame  me." 

"  Blame  you  1    For  what  ?  " 

"  If  you  get  into  trouble." 

"  I'll  not.    Good-by." 

But  he  was  sorry.  An  idol  was  shat- 
tered, and  he  did  not  want  to  see  it  so. 

Several  men  were  in  the  office  of  the 
canal  company.  Dan  was  accustomed  to 
going  there  whenever  in  town.  The  offi- 
cers were  always  glad  to  see  him,  and  he 
found  his  work  down  the  canal  went  for- 
ward more  smoothly  when  he  kept  in  touch 
with  his  superiors. 

259 


The  Outlaws 

But  there  was  a  surprise  for  him  as  he 
stepped  into  the  little  room.  There  sat 
Bill  Anderson,  and  beside  him  was  Seth 
Reed. 

"  Hello,"  he  cried. 

"  Hello,  Dan." 

The  tone  was  cheery  enough,  but  Dan 
caught  a  curious  look  in  the  eyes  of  both 
men,  and  a  curious  silence  in  the  group. 
It  was  not  wholly  the  look  and  the  silence 
with  which  men  bring  accusation.  They 
could  not  have  surprised  him  much,  for  he 
knew  what  the  men  of  the  old  neighbor- 
hood thought  of  him.  At  the  first  it  had 
been  an  ever-present  sorrow — a  regret 
which  not  even  hard  work  could  wholly 
allay.  He  wanted  his  home  to  believe  in 
him — all  of  his  home;  and  that  was  much 
more  than  simply  the  domicile  where  his 
father  resided.  But  later  he  had  felt  less 
concern  for  their  views,  because  he  had 
been  conscious  of  increasing  strength, 
and  of  a  mightier  task  for  his  doing.  He 
was  nearing  the  place  where  they  would 
260 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

become  defenders  rather  than  accusers; 
and  he  was  more  and  more  willing  to 
wait. 

But  there  was  a  bit  of  embarrass- 
ment in  their  own  bearing  toward  him; 
and  it  was  not  the  constraint  of  men 
disliking  to  embarrass,  to  accuse,  to  ap- 
prehend. It  was  the  embarrassment  of 
men  who  felt  themselves  in  the  presence 
of  one  who  had  passed  them,  who  was 
looming  large  in  their  view,  who  had 
won  honors — and  was  able  to  wear 
them. 

The  young  man  recognized  the  attitude, 
and  it  helped  him  to  treat  them  with  all 
cordiality,  to  shake  hands,  to  ask  after 
the  neighborhood  news. 

All  this  time  Mr.  Patterson  and  the  offi- 
cers had  said  nothing.  When  a  lull  came 
the  inspector  spoke: 

"Dan,  these  men  say  you  have  been 
regarded  as  an  outlaw." 

He  laughed — the  big,  genuine,  hearty 
laugh  which  is  worth  fortunes. 
261 


The  Outlaws 

"  Why,  have  I,  Bill?  "  he  asked. 

"Well,  we  just  about  had  to  think  it, 
Dan — up  till  the  sheriff  died." 

"  Have  you  changed  your  minds  1 " 

"We  want  to  change  them,  don't  we, 
Seth?" 

"  It  would  be  better  thataway." 

The  greater  sorrow  that  had  fallen  on 
all  had  softened  asperities,  and  yet  in  that 
hour  no  man  who  had  had  share  in  the 
business  which  brought  the  sheriff  low 
must  be  permitted  to  escape. 

Mr.  Patterson  had  a  bit  of  paper  before 
him — some  dates  written  upon  it. 

"They  say,  Dan,  Judge  Evans's  colts 
were  stolen  on  the  night  of  March  8th. 
You  were  not  at  home  that  night,  but  went 
back  next  day,  and  on  the  evening  of  March 
9th  disappeared  again.  I  have  accounted 
for  you  all  the  time  except  the  night  of 
March  8th." 

There  was  precisely  what  David  Stock- 
ing had  foreshadowed. 

Dan  did  not  much  care  for  any  threat- 
262 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

ened  peril.  He  was  far  too  big  to  fear,  now. 
But  he  did  care  for  his  good  name ;  and  he 
grew  very  sure  that  he  must  clear  up  the 
mystery  of  that  night,  so  that  no  man  might 
question. 

He  rose,  resolved  to  find  David  Stock- 
ing, and  compel  the  truth  from  him,  or 
punish  without  more  ado  the  clever 
stranger  in  the  West. 

"  Come  with  me,  boys,"  he  said.  "  We 
will  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  Patter- 


son." 


They  passed  the  packet  landing.  The 
Lewis  Cass  had  discharged  her  passengers, 
and  was  lying  half  neglected.  People  had 
lost  interest  in  her,  since  all  that  was  un- 
known before  was  common  knowledge  now. 
Suddenly  it  occurred  to  Dan  Eank  that  he 
might  find  here  a  man  who  could  help  him. 
A  deck-hand  was  leaning  in  glowering  idle- 
ness against  the  tiller-post.  Dan  looked 
at  him. 

"  On  your  March  trip  down,"  he  said, 
"you  brought  a  wrestler — a  fellow  who 
263 


The  Outlaws 

said  he  had  thrown  every  one  from  here  to 
Toledo." 

"  Well,  he  got  flung  here,"  said  the  boat- 
man, lazily. 

"  Where  is  he  now!  " 

"  Ashore." 

"  Where  does  he  stop!  " 

"  I  don't  know.    Ask  at  the  tavern." 

"What  is  his  name!" 

"  Hain't  got  no  name.    Call  him  Tim." 

"  That's  the  man.  I  had  forgotten  his 
name." 

"  I  tell  you  that  hain't  his  name,"  pro- 
tested the  deck-hand  irritably.  "  That's 
what  we  call  him." 

"  All  right.    Thanks.    Good  day." 

They  turned  and  walked  rapidly  down 
the  long,  level  way,  past  the  warehouses 
and  the  stores  to  the  tavern. 

"I  don't  think  you  helped  take  them 
horses,  Dan,"  said  the  little  preacher. 

"  Well,  I  don't  suppose  you  do.  But  I 
want  to  make  sure  no  one  will  think  it — 


ever." 


264 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

At  the  tavern  door  they  heard  loud 
voices. 

Some  one  was  accusing  another  of 
treachery.  Dan  led  the  two  countrymen 
inside.  In  the  center  of  the  room  stood 
David  Stocking.  Beyond  him,  facing  the 
newcomers,  was  Tim,  the  wrestler.  And 
they  were  quarreling. 

"  Naw,  you  played  off  on  me,"  declared 
Tim  angrily,  refusing  to  be  mollified  by 
Stocking's  suave  protestations.  "Don't 
lie,  Dave.  You  got  me  to  bet  my  money, 
and  you  run  me  ag'in  a  circus  rastler,  and 
he  nigh  broke  my  back,  and  I  lost  my 
money." 

"  Tim,  I  tell  you  I  never  saw  nor  heard 
of  him  till  that  day,"  insisted  Stocking. 

"  Yes,  you  did.  You  played  off  on  me. 
You  got  him  to  jump."  Then  he  stopped, 
looking  past  David  Stocking,  at  Dan  Eank, 
and  the  two.  "  There  he  is  now — dressed 
up  with  my  money." 

Dan  went  to  them. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  demanded. 
265 


The  Outlaws 

"  You  know  well  enough,"  was  Tim's  re- 
ply. Stocking  said  nothing  at  all.  He 
rather  enjoyed  the  completeness  of  his 
trapping. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Tim.  You  think  Stock- 
ing robbed  you,  and  got  you  thrown,  into 
the  bargain.  Well,  you  are  wrong  about 
part  of  it.  He  never  saw  me  till  the  day 
I  wrestled  with  you.  These  men  are  farm- 
ers. They  live  about  the  locks.  They  know 
I  was  born  and  raised  there,  and  never  was 
away  from  home  till  I  jumped  on  the  Lewis 
Cass.  Isn't  that  true,  men?  " 

They  both  confirmed  him.  There  was 
no  question  about  them  in  Tim's  mind. 
The  giant  canaler  was  silenced. 

"If  Stocking  got  any  of  your  cash," 
added  Dan,  "make  him  give  it  up.  He 
never  gave  me  any." 

"Didn't  you  get  the  winnings?"  de- 
manded Tim,  the  light  of  a  new  offending 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Not  a  penny.  I  don't  wrestle  for 
money." 

266 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

"What  for,  then?" 

"  Because  I  like  it." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  that  foolish— but  I  guess 
you  are  the  only  one  of  the  kind.  If  I 
was  as  good  as  you  I  wouldn't  walk  on 
anything  but  men.  And  I  would  have 
money  in  every  pocket." 

"  This  is  fine,"  cried  Stocking,  his  ring- 
ing tone,  his  laugh,  his  attitude  bespeaking 
his  delight  in  his  own  discomfiture. 

"  I  put  up  thirty  dollars  in  your  hands," 
cried  Tim,  whirling  on  the  sailor.  "  I  bet 
it  'cause  you  said  he  was  a  country- 
man, and  that  he  had  money.  Give  it 
up." 

"  Certain — sure,"  said  Stocking;  and  he 
began  counting  it  out. 

"  I  thought  you  was  a  circus  rastler," 
said  Tim,  with  a  half-apology  to  Dan. 

"Well,  you  were  wrong.  Now,  tell 
these  men  where  I  was  that  afternoon — 
after  I  jumped  on  the  Lewis  Cass." 

"When  the  Cass  come  down  in 
March?" 

18  267 


The  Outlaws 

"Yes.  Tell  them  where  I  was  in  the 
afternoon — here  in  town." 

"  You  was  breaking  my  back  part  of 
the  time." 

"  In  the  evening  I  " 

"Eatin'  supper — and  I  couldn't  stand 
up." 

"After  that?" 

"  Settin'  around  the  stove  in  this  room, 
while  that  robber  was  bawlin'  his  '  Sing- 
ho '  songs,  and  I  was  groaning  on  the  bar- 
rels back  there  in  the  corner,  sick." 

"How  late?" 

"  Till  midnight,  anyhow.  That's  when 
they  carried  me  up  to  bed.  And  I  laid  there 
till  the  boat  started  back  on  the  up-trip." 

"  That's  all.  Thanks.  Are  you  satis- 
fied? "  This  to  Anderson  and  Reed. 

They  were  abundantly  convinced,  and 
they  hastened  to  assure  him.  He  could 
have  had  no  hand  in  stealing  the  four-year- 
olds.  His  vindication  was  complete. 

Quite  a  crowd  had  gathered.  As  he  ap- 
pealed to  his  neighbors,  he  saw  back  of 
268 


The  Sheriff  Captured 

them,  and  in  the  throng,  Mr.  Patterson, 
and  the  president  of  the  canal  company. 
He  turned  to  Tim,  now  pocketing  his 
money,  and  already  planning  the  revel 
which  should  exhaust  both  it  and  him. 

"  My  friend,  you  are  a  good  wrestler, 
and  an  honest  man.  Good-by."  And  they 
shook  hands,  cordially. 

"  Then,  everybody  drink,"  called  Stock- 
ing. 

There  was  the  shout  they  had  all  heard 
— the  absolution  for  sin  at  the  tavern,  the 
paean  of  rough  jubilation  along  the  entire 
canal.  It  was  David  Stocking,  scorning 
apology,  above  denial,  master  of  their  ad- 
miration in  spite  of  confession. 

"Everybody  have  a  drink,  and  every- 
body sing." 

He  lifted  his  voice  in  the  strident  meas- 
ure; and  the  last  sound  that  reached  Dan 
Bank's  ears  as  he  hurried  up  the  street 
with  his  neighbors — now  his  friends — was 
that  ancient  song  of  the  sailor: 


The  Outlaws 

"They  are  racing  and  chasing  afar — 

Sing  ho  1 
They  are  armed  like  the  soldiers  in  war — 

Sing  hoi 

But  the  storm-cloud  is  gathering  over  your  head, 
And  the  horse  and  the  sheriff  that  rode  it  are  dead, 
And  we're  putting  the  posse  all  safely  abed — 

Sing  ho  1 " 

"  Drink  up — 

"We're  putting  the  posse  all  safely  abed — 
Sing  ho  1 " 

Dan  Bank  shook  hands  with  Reed  and 
'Anderson  at  the  corner.  They  were  almost 
abject  in  their  conversion. 

"  We  will  make  you  right  at  home,"  said 
the  preacher — and  then,  because  deep  feel- 
ing always  sent  him  to  the  Scripture,  and 
usually  to  a  text  of  no  possible  relevance, 
he  added :  "  l  The  Lord  will  provide.'  " 

"  Thanks.    Good-by." 


270 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   FIRST   SHADOW 

SUNDAY  evening  at  the  end  of  May  was 
a  time  of  delight  for  Dan  Eank. 

The  ancient  freighter,  which  had  been 
a  shabby  refuge  to  him  at  first,  had  passed 
under  the  magic  wand  of  a  happy  woman, 
and  was  becoming  a  bower  of  beauty.  Lit- 
tle Prudence  was  happy.  Her  status  was 
established  in  the  old  neighborhood,  and 
her  heart  was  at  peace.  She  was  making  a 
home. 

She  had  taken  advantage  of  the  broad 
rail  that  ran  around  the  vessel  just  above 
the  deck-line,  and  had  added  an  upright 
strip  to  its  outer  edge,  and  filled  the  trench 
thus  made  with  rank  mold  from  the  for- 
est. There  she  had  planted  seeds  of  vines 
and  flowers.  There  she  had  fixed  the  roots 
of  wood  plants  and  trailers,  the  ivy  that 
271 


The  Outlaws 

wraps  old  trees  to  their  tops,  glistening  in 
green  all  summer,  flaming  in  scarlet  in  the 
autumn.  It  was  a  delight  to  sit  there,  and 
talk  of  the  time  when  the  foliage  would 
bend  to  the  task  of  beautifying  the  walls 
of  their  floating  home,  or  thatching  its 
weather-beaten  roof,  or  framing  its  little 
windows  till  they  forgot  they  were  ever 
blank,  staring  eyes  in  a  dull,  dead  face,  and 
would  flash  twinkling,  bewitching  gleams 
into  the  woodland  upon  the  one  side,  and 
out  upon  the  broad  river  on  the  other. 

Inside,  the  transformation  was  already 
complete.  Beyond  a  renovation  which 
taxed  the  energy  of  kindly,  helpful  Mrs. 
Haley,  the  kitchen  remained  the  same. 
But  that  larger  room  adjoining  was  white 
in  wall  and  ceiling ;  was  carpeted  with  fab- 
ric of  the  girl's  own  weaving;  was  hung 
with  fresh  flowers  from  the  woods  every 
day,  and  was  fragrant  with  the  aroma 
which  may  be  had  without  price,  which  no 
money  can  buy. 

It  was  a  place  of  comfort,  a  haven  of 
272 


The  First  Shadow 

rest;  cool  and  silent  in  the  fervid  warmth' 
of  summer  days,  musical  with  the  many 
voices  of  the  forest,  and  the  never-ceasing 
undertone  of  the  river's  melody  at  night. 
It  had  grown  from  the  four  bare  walls  of 
Labor's  bedroom  to  the  sweetness  and 
sanctity  of  a  bridal  chamber.  Where  phys- 
ical exhaustion,  and  the  stupor  of  toil-worn 
unconsciousness  had  been  its  only  associa- 
tions, the  gentleness  of  daytime,  the  songs 
of  evening,  the  happy  night-dreams  of  lov- 
ing hearts  became  the  censer-fragrance  of 
its  memories. 

But  in  that  heyday  of  pleasure  their 
first  cloud  fell. 

It  was  just  at  the  end  of  the  work,  one 
day,  when  Malone,  who  had  been  healthy 
from  the  start,  who  had  done  more  work 
and  less  fighting  than  most  men,  cried  out 
in  the  suddenness  of  a  surprising  pain. 

They  went  to  him,  but  it  was  no  phase 
of  fever  and  ague.    It  was  too  deadly  for 
that.    It  was  not  the  dumb  pressure  of  a 
stubborn  lassitude.    The  man  suffered. 
273 


The  Outlaws 

"Go  get  Doctor  Borton,"  commanded 
Eank.  For  he  cared  for  his  men.  "  Take 
a  horse,  and  ride — fast." 

Late  that  night  Doctor  Borton  came 
down  from  the  cabin  to  the  boat-house,  and 
asked  for  a  cup  of  coffee.  And  Mrs.  Haley, 
always  ready  to  serve,  lighted  the  fire  to 
prepare  it  for  him. 

"How's  Malone?"  asked  Dan,  turning 
from  his  scanning  of  notes  and  plans. 

"  Pll  tell  you  p-presently." 

For  once  in  his  life  the  doctor  gave 
trouble. 

"  Mrs.  Haley,  I  want  about  four  ounces 
of  whisky." 

"Four  ounces,"  sighed  the  woman. 
"Have  they  taken  to  weighing  the 
stuff!" 

But  she  supplied  him. 

He  poured  it  out  in  a  tumbler,  and 
drank  it  without  winking,  though  he  had 
never  been  an  intemperate  man. 

"  Dan,"  said  he,  looking  into  the  bottom 
of  the  glass  as  if  puzzled  at  the  liquor's 
274 


The  First  Shadow 

disappearance,  "we  must  l-leave  here  at 
once." 

"We  must  leave?" 

"  At  once." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  J-just  that.  We  must  get  away.  Can 
you  g-go  to-night  ?  " 

"This  minute,  if  necessary.  But  tell 
me  why." 

"  N-never  mind.  That  man  Malone  is 
dead,  and  b-buried." 

"And  buried?" 

"  Yes — very  deep.  There's  a  steamer 
coming.  Make  them  give  you  a  line,  and 
tow  you  up  to  t-town.  You  can  find  a  house 
later.  Will  you  d-do  it?  " 

"  Isn't  it  just  as  well  to  wait  till  to-mor- 
row ?  "  For  it  seemed  to  him  like  desertion. 

"  If  you  don't  go  to-night,  I'll  wake  up 
Prudence,  and  c-carry  her  off  with  me 
n-now." 

"  Oh,  well,  where  thou  goest  with  Pru- 
dence, I  will  go.  I  think  I  understand. 
Shall  I  tell  her?" 

275 


The  Outlaws 

"  No,  let  her  sleep.  But  for  God's  sake 
g-get  out  a  line,  and  hail  that  steamb-boat." 

And  in  the  morning,  when  Prudence 
waked,  stores  and  warehouses  and  tall 
mills  had  taken  the  places  of  trees  in  her 
landscape. 

It  was  a  sorrow  for  her.  She  had  large 
stock  of  hope  invested  in  that  curious,  float- 
ing home ;  and  there  had  been  services  in 
hovels  of  the  sick,  and  the  mingling  of 
tears.  So  that  her  heartstrings  drew  her. 

But  when  Dan  Eank  and  the  doctor 
closed  the  door  of  discussion,  when  she 
knew  the  reason  that  rested  on  the  grave 
of  Malone,  she  gave  up  her  dreams  of  para- 
dise there,  and  brought  paradise  with  her 
— to  a  more  commonplace  home. 

Dan  did  not  sleep  at  all  that  first  night 
in  town.  He  worked,  figuring  out  what 
forces  he  had  in  hand,  where  to  attack  the 
still  unfinished  spaces,  how  with  certainty 
to  bring  his  task  to  swift  completion.  He 
knew  the  conditions  were  ripe  for  the 
plague's  visitation;  and  he  knew,  with  a 
276 


The  First  Shadow 

gathering  sense  of  peril,  that  when  the  evil 
day  fell  his  men  would  suffer  severely.  He 
understood,  though  the  hurrying  old  doc- 
tor did  not  tell  him,  the  menace  in  Malone's 
death — the  significance  of  that  sharp  ut- 
terance :  "  He  is  dead,  and  buried — deep !  " 

And  it  was  with  the  suppressed  energy 
of  many  men  that  he  went  to  the  offices  in 
the  morning.  He  found  the  inner  door 
locked.  There  were  some  clerks  at  the 
desks  in  the  main  room,  and  in  the  ware- 
house at  the  side  half-a-dozen  laborers  were 
busy  handling  tools  and  supplies,  the  fore- 
men consulting  lists,  and  sending  for  arti- 
cles mentioned  in  the  requisitions. 

One  man,  in  tilting  a  box,  started  a 
mouse,  and  it  ran  across  the  floor  to  the 
shelter  of  some  ropes  and  bagging.  Two 
men  gave  a  playful  shout,  and  ran  after  it, 
pushing  the  articles  about,  and  trying  to 
scare  the  little  animal  from  cover.  An- 
other joined  them,  and  a  third,  at  some  dis- 
tance, paused  with  an  armful  of  material, 
and  watched  the  sport. 
277 


The  Outlaws 

Dan  Eank  turned  back  into  the  office,  ir- 
ritated at  the  waste  of  time.  His  superiors 
in  control  should  have  been  there.  He  felt 
impelled  with  the  fever  of  impatience,  im- 
pressed with  the  need  of  all  haste.  He  felt 
a  sense  of  personal  grievance  against  Mr. 
Patterson,  who  had  always  seemed  fired 
with  enthusiasm.  He  must  confer  with 
them,  and  yet  he  knew  he  was  needed  down 
at  the  section. 

He  took  up  a  copy  of  the  Free  Press,  a 
local  paper,  for  this  was  publication  day, 
and  the  pages  were  wet  from  the  press. 

But  it  was  little  he  read.  He  was  sure 
each  approaching  step  was  that  of  the 
president,  or  of  the  inspector,  or  the  pay- 
master, and  the  deliberateness  of  all  foot- 
falls provoked  him.  Would  they  never 
come — never  realize  that  they  must  make 
such  speed  as  armies  need  when  triumph 
and  defeat  are  trembling  in  the  balance? 
Would  they  waste  these  hours  when  every 
one  was  precious,  when  the  handful  of 
days  was  all  they  might  hope  for — when 
278 


The  First  Shadow 

the  perilous  cloud  of  a  pestilence  might 
gather  and  descend  upon  them  at  any  time  ? 

The  shipping  columns  of  the  paper 
seemed  to  dance  in  taunting  jubilation  be- 
fore him — the  mocking  leaders  in  a  race  he 
had  so  nearly  won ;  that  he  was  in  such  im- 
minent peril  of  losing. 

There  was  a  shout  from  the  warehouse. 
He  flung  down  his  paper  and  stepped  to  the 
door.  Six  men  were  standing,  half-way  in 
errands,  their  faces  aglow  with  laughter 
and  interest.  The  seventh  had  killed  the 
mouse,  and  was  holding  it  up  by  the  tail. 

"Men,"  said  Dan,  stepping  into  the 
room,  "you  are  wasting  time."  He  was 
struggling  to  speak  with  great  composure. 
"Hurry!" 

They  picked  up  their  tasks,  scattering 
tardily,  still  regarding  that  chase  and  cap- 
ture as  an  important  incident.  Also,  they 
regarded  him  with  accusing  eyes.  He 
might  be  a  big  man  in  the  company,  but  his 
place  was  out  on  the  line — not  here  in  town. 
And  they  resented  it. 
2T9 


The  Outlaws 

One  of  them  made  a  venture. 

"  I  hear  the  Paddies  on  the  canal  work 
night  and  day." 

A  foreman  took  courage  from  that,  and 
shouted : 

"  Hurry  up  there,  Bill."  Then  lower : 
"  We'll  try  to  run  this  warehouse." 

But  they  all  heard  it,  and  they  all 
laughed.  Dan  Kank  walked  quietly  over  to 
the  man,  caught  him  by  the  collar  and  flung 
him  through  the  wide  door  toward  the 
canal. 

"  Don't  come  back,"  he  said,  picking  up 
the  list  of  requisition.  Then  he  turned  to 
the  others.  "  There  is  a  good  deal  of  work 
to  do,  men,  and  there  is  no  time  for  chas- 
ing mice.  Hurry ! " 

They  did — silently,  and  savagely. 

If  he  had  not  allowed  himself  that  out- 
break, he  could  not  have  met  the  presi- 
dent with  the  respect  he  owed.  For 
as  he  turned  back  to  the  door  he  saw 
that  calm  official  leisurely  approaching, 
swinging  his  cane  as  was  his  habit,  see- 
280 


The  First  Shadow 

ing  every  one  on  the  street,  and  saluting 
most. 

"  How  are  you,  Dan?  "  he  cried  cheer- 
ily; and  they  clasped  hands.  "  Sit  down." 

"I  have  very  little  time,"  was  the  re- 
ply. "  I  have  just  thrown  out  one  of  your 
foremen  from  the  shed.  They  were  catch- 
ing mice.  Better  take  him  back  after  I  get 
away.  Let  me  tell  you  something.  One  of 
my  men  died  last  night." 

"  It  isn't  the  first." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  not  be  the  last." 

"  Probably  not.  But  there  are  plenty 
more." 

The  brutality  of  it  was  so  common  at 
the  time  that  he  could  pass  it  without  re- 
senting, though  he  never  shared  in  it;  but 
the  indifference  to  its  significance  just  now 
nettled  him.  He  was  almost  rough  in  the 
suddenness  of  his  announcement: 

"I  think  it  is  cholera.  Ah — good 
morning,  Mr.  Patterson,  Mr.  Love." 

"Why!     There  was  only  one  case  at 
Memphis  at  the  last  report." 
281 


The  Outlaws 

"  There  is  only  one  case  here  at  last  re- 
port. But  one  is  enough.  We  must  push 
this  work  as  it  never  was  pushed  before." 

"  We  have  plenty  of  time  to  finish  by 
September." 

"We  have,  if  nothing  happens.  We 
haven't  half  enough,  if  something  does 
happen." 

Mr.  Patterson  was  gently — but  jubilant- 
ly— rubbing  his  hands.  At  last  the  truth 
was  coming  home  to  the  officers. 

The  president  had  learned  to  weigh 
the  statements  of  this  man.  He  considered 
a  moment: 

"You  are  right,  I  suppose.  We  must 
make  haste." 

"It  is  a  race,"  added  Dan  Eank. 
"  There  is  another  thing.  The  cars  are 
coming.  If  we  fail  this  year,  we  lose  every- 
thing. They  will  start  the  first  day  of 
September,  and  secure  their  right  of  way." 

"  Do  you  really  think  it  is  so  serious  1 " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  tell  you,  the  cars 
are  coming.  And  if  they  beat  us,  the  canal 
282 


The  First  Shadow 

won't  carry  a  wheelbarrow  of  goods  in  a 
year." 

They  had  slept  well,  and  had  breakfast- 
ed. They  had  come  leisurely  down  street, 
stopping  to  chat  here  and  there  as  was  the 
habit  of  business  men  in  an  earlier  day; 
had  walked  about;  had  heard  of  the  boat- 
house  down  there  at  the  ferry,  and  had 
been  there  for  a  moment — three  of  a  crowd 
that  had  viewed  the  curious  craft,  with  the 
beginnings  of  its  vines  and  foliage.  They 
knew  now  why  it  had  been  removed  from 
the  camp.  They  had  entered  the  office 
much  as  on  other  mornings,  and  had 
found  this  young  man  fired  with  impulse 
and  energy.  He  startled  them.  He  star- 
tled them — though  it  was  in  the  fervid  heat 
of  summer.  Besides,  he  had  never  been 
wrong. 

They  were  interested  far  more  than  was 
he.  It  meant  not  alone  the  securing  of  the 
fortune  at  stake  here,  but  the  prestige  of 
great  achievement  by  men  who  must  make 
success  their  capital.  The  whole  West  was 
19  283 


The  Outlaws 

ringing  with  advancing  population — and 
there  were  other  worlds  to  conquer. 

"What  do  you  suggest,  Dan?  What 
for  immediate  action?  " 

The  president  was  in  his  place  at  the 
table — intent,  alert,  caught  with  the  con- 
flagration of  nervous  activity. 

"First,  the  massing  of  every  man  we 
can  get  on  this  upper  section — the  viaduct 
over  the  Wea ;  the  completion  of  the  canal 
here ;  then  the  opening  and  turning  in  the 
water." 

"  Can  we  do  that  before  acceptance  1 " 

"  We  must  secure  acceptance.  And  we 
will  have  no  difficulty.  Every  village  down 
the  valley  is  mad  for  the  canal.  Their  bo- 
nus is  ready  in  cash  when  we  are  ready. 
But  they  are  tired  of  waiting.  We  have, 
besides  the  money  they  offer,  miles  of  land ; 
and  if  we  perfect  the  title  by  finishing  the 
canal  and  turning  it  over  to  the  State  by 
September,  we  can  race  with  the  railroad 
at  every  town  in  the  Wabash.  There  isn't 
law  enough  nor  men  enough  on  earth  to 
284 


The  First  Shadow 

take  our  fortune  away  from  us.  But  the 
railroad  people  have  viewers  here  now. 
They  will  have  surveyors  here  by  July. 
,We  must  finish  by  September,  or  they  can 
run  over  our  land — everywhere." 

"  Could  we  get  an  extension,  in  case  we 
needed  it?  " 

"  Why  should  we  need  it — and  take  the 
chances  I  Besides,  they  are  getting  strong- 
er than  we,  unless  we  can  hold  the  land. 
Malone's  death  is  a  hint.  Now,  if  the  chol- 
era should  come  before  we  are  done,  we  lose 
— everything." 

"  Then  go  ahead,  Dan.  Count  on  us  to 
back  you."  The  man  was  awake — and  a 
power.  "  If  you  pull  us  through,  you  get 
two  per  cent,  of  the  cash,  or  two  per  cent, 
of  the  land,  whichever  you  choose — and 
your  salary.  Remember  that — your  sal- 
ary. Now,  what  do  you  need?" 

"  Get  all  the  men  you  can.  Send  them 
down  to  me.  Fill  my  requisitions  instant- 
ly, if  the  men  have  to  work  night  and  day. 
Hurry!" 

285 


The  Outlaws 

It  was  precisely  the  tone  he  had  em- 
ployed in  addressing  the  men  in  the  ware- 
house. But  it  fell  on  ears  that  heard  and 
understood. 

"  I  am  going  down  to  the  work,"  he  said. 
"  Good  morning." 

"  Long  life  to  him ! "  cried  Mr.  Patter- 
son. "My  energy  wore  out.  He  seems 
exhaustless." 

Dan  Rank  went  to  the  stable  and  got 
Selim.  He  rode  rapidly  down  the  valley. 
There  was  no  more  mouse-hunting  in  the 
warehouse.  At  noon  the  first  order  for 
supplies  came  in;  and  the  president  char- 
tered a  flatboat  and  fought  for  instant  pos- 
session. He  loaded  it  in  a  rush  that  star- 
tled the  town,  and  launched  it  the  minute 
its  cargo  was  in  place — at  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning. 

At  night  came  a  message,  asking  for 
men;  and  Mr.  Patterson  and  Mr.  Love 
combed  the  town  and  the  region  round 
about  for  laborers.  They  offered  better 
pay  than  any  one  else  was  giving.  They; 


The  First  Shadow 

forwarded  food  in  advance,  and  tools  in 
abundance.  The  river  gave  them  an  open 
highway  to  the  point  of  attack,  and  they 
flung  their  forces  wherever  that  command- 
er directed. 

The  work  on  his  whole  section  went  for- 
ward— bounding. 

But  there  was  a  drag  farther  on.  No 
one  else  had  heard  that  order,  "Hur- 
ry!" 

Wednesday  a  man  came  up  from  the 
rock  cut  at  Portland,  and  strolled  into  the 
president's  office. 

"  We  ain't  workin',"  he  said. 

"  Why?    Where  is  your  boss?  " 

"He  run.  Heard  the  men  was  dying 
just  above  Terre  Haute." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Part  of  the  men  quit,  too — all  but  the 
Irish." 

"You  are  a  lot  of  cowards." 

"We  hear  your  gang  on  the  Wea  is 
dying  off,  too." 

The  president  flashed  a  look  across  at 
287 


The  Outlaws 

Mr.   Patterson,   and  found  the   superin- 
tendent white  and  preoccupied. 

No  one  said  anything  for  a  moment. 
Then  the  man  from  the  rock  cut  rose  a  lit- 
tle from  his  leaning  against  the  railing, 
and  moved  toward  the  door. 

"I  just  thought  Pd  drop  in  and  tell 
you."  Then  he  was  gone. 

"Patterson,  some  one  has  got  to  take 
charge  of  our  whole  contract — of  every 
gang,  and  stand  right  over  them,  and  drive 
them — and  drive  them  till  they  finish." 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  from  Louis- 
yille?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  regard  those  reports  as  ex- 
aggerated." 

"And  from  Cairo?" 

"The  people  are  frightened.  All  it 
wants  is  a  brave  and  energetic  leader 
who  can  go  with  the  men,  and  rush  them. 
It  will  pay  you  well.  Will  you  take 
it?" 

"  Not  for  a  thousand  dollars  a  day." 

"Mr.  Love?" 

288 


The  First  Shadow 

"  Nor  I." 

The  paymaster  glanced  at  the  door,  as 
if  he  wished  he  were  through  it,  and — free 
to  fly. 

"  Let  me  suggest  something,"  said  he. 
"I  can  manage  these  estimates,  and  the 
purchases,  and  the  getting  of  laborers. 
But  Dan  Bank  is  your  manager  of  men. 
He  is  your  leader.  Did  you  see  him  down 
there  at  the  tavern  that  day? " 

"  But  he  is  a  young  man — and  the  pay 
should  be  better  than  any  of  us  gets." 

"  That  may  be.  But  we  are  all  working 
for  the  canal.  If  anything  should  happen 
to  keep  us  from  getting  done  by  Septem- 
ber, we  have  nothing  but  our  salaries.  If 
we  get  through  on  contract  time,  we  are 
all  rich  men.  It  isn't  a  question  of  bet- 
ter salary  for  three  months.  It  is  a  ques- 
tion of  completing.  We  all  know  that. 
And  I  know  Dan  is  the  man  for  the 
place." 

"  I  like  the  fellow,"  said  the  president. 
"  He  has  done  wonders.  And  he  is  a  big 
289 


The  Outlaws 

man,  in  spite  of  his  youth.  A  big  man — 
and  the  making  of  a  bigger.  He  is  com- 
manding, influential.  Yes,  I  saw  him  there 
at  the  tavern,  and  he  dominates  those  peo- 
ple. He  controls  them,  and  they  like  it. 
iWhat  is  more  to  the  point,  he  controls  us. 
.When  he  comes  in  here,  I  feel  like  a  sick 
man  before  a  doctor.  I  know  I  want  to 
get  well.  He  knows  the  rest ;  and  I  am  sat- 
isfied, doing  what  he  recommends.  You 
know  that — all  of  you." 

"  He  has  done  more  work  than  a  hun- 
dred men,  and  saved  us  more  in  men  and 
material,  and  kept  better  order  in  that 
crew  of  fighters,  than  any  other  man  on 
earth  could — I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Patter- 
son. 

"  Another  thing  about  him,"  added  Mr. 
Love.  "  He  keeps  them  in  better  health ; 
and  that  is  a  great  deal." 

"  Nobody  else  can  do  it,  at  any  price," 

mused  the  president,  his  brow  clouded. 

He  rose  and  walked  up  and  down  the 

room.     Then  he  went  to  his  desk  with  the 

290 


The  First  Shadow 

decision  which  they  had  learned  to  re- 
spect. 

"  Gentlemen,  with  your  approval  I  make 
Dan  Bank  general  manager." 

They  agreed;  and  the  word  was  hurried 
down  the  line. 


291 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  CHOLERA! 

As  for  Dan,  he  gave  himself  no  rest, 
night  nor  day.  It  seemed  afterward,  as  he 
tried  to  remember,  that  he  had  slept  in  the 
saddle,  galloping  from  point  to  point,  and 
that  Selim  had  known  from  instinct  where 
to  stop  and  bring  this  engine  of  energy  in 
contact  with  dallying  employees. 

On  the  first  day  of  June  his  lower  chan- 
nel was  finished.  The  difficult  stretch  at 
Portland  kept  him  two  weeks  longer,  for 
the  rock  was  troublesome.  And  just  be- 
yond that,  the  bed  leaked  whenever  they 
turned  on  experimental  waters. 

And  the  day  of  the  fight  at  Attica — the 
day  when  the  savage  demand  for  a  com- 
pleted canal  bore  fruit  of  riot — he  saw  the 
railroad  viewers  striding  down  the  valley. 
292 


The  Cholera! 

There  was  a  triumphant  look  on  their 
faces.  The  new  means  of  transportation 
had  won  great  prestige  in  the  eastern  coun- 
try. The  State,  reviving  from  its  ten  years 
of  financial  distress,  was  giving  all  encour- 
agement. Many  wise  men  were  already, 
skeptical  of  the  canal's  possibilities.  Above 
all,  they  doubted  if  this  work,  which  had 
lagged  for  years,  could  be  rushed  to  com- 
pletion in  the  time  specified.  And  if  it 
failed,  the  whole  magnificent  enterprise 
must  fall. 

The  sun  was  sultry,  now,  and  made 
solid  the  channel,  and  the  banks  held  full. 
Dan  Bank  was  backing  the  locks,  and  pack- 
ing the  towpath  when  June  was  ended. 
And  only  the  viaduct  over  the  Wea  and 
that  little  stretch  of  earth  at  Lafayette  re- 
mained between  him  and  the  completion  of 
his  task.  A  month  would  suffice  to  do  all 
of  it. 

Never  had  there  been  such  a  pushing  of 
men,  such  a  tireless  driving  of  work.  The 
title  deeds,  assurance  of  compensation, 
293 


The  Outlaws 

waited  the  arrival  of  the  first  packet  from 
below.    He  would  win! 

The  Fourth  of  July  came,  and  the  men 
demanded  a  holiday.  He  grudged  it,  but 
he  saw  in  the  temper  of  them  that  time 
would  be  wasted  if  he  made  denial ;  and  a 
cessation  of  work  was  ordered — with  ap- 
pearance of  cheerfulness  and  good-will. 
They  should  not  know  how  much  one  brief 
day  meant  for  him. 

That  day  he  spent  at  home  at  a  cozy 
house  he  had  found;  and  Little  Prudence, 
with  Mrs.  Haley's  help,  prepared  for  him 
a  famous  dinner.  The  paymaster  and  the 
inspector  ate  with  them.  And  they  sat 
about  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  after  the 
feast,  drowsily  listening  through  the 
hours. 

There  had  been  firing  of  anvils  in  the 
early  morning,  and  some  farmers  had 
come  to  town  in  big  wagons,  the  boys  ex- 
pectant of  sights.  But  at  midday  the 
sounds  were  hushed,  and  the  sun  glared 
on  the  noiseless  city. 

294 


The  Cholera! 

A  terror,  impending — unnamed,  vague 
— hovered  continually. 

Somehow,  they  could  not  find  a  topic 
that  interested  them.  That  stillness  in  the 
air,  that  odd  absence  of  any  bird  song,  the 
dry,  burning  heat  of  the  afternoon  seemed 
to  oppress  them.  The  women  had  given 
up  song  and  fancy  work — the  latter  a  rare 
surrender.  For  a  long  time  no  one  had 
spoken.  They  heard  distant  footsteps.  It 
was  curious  they  should  all  catch  that  com- 
monplace sound.  But  there  was  no  other. 
Besides  this,  it  was  utterly  still. 

The  tread  was  that  of  a  man  on  the 
board  sidewalk — not  hurrying.  It  came 
nearer,  and  every  one  in  the  little  group 
under  the  trees,  listened  and  watched,  in- 
tently interested.  The  hot  boards  cracked 
hollow  under  his  tread — as  if  they  were 
laid  across  graves.  He  came  in  sight,  and 
they  knew — the  president. 

His  face  was  white — ashy  white.  His 
eyes  were  wide  and  staring.  He  did  not 
295 


The  Outlaws 

look  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  and  was 
startled  when  they  called  him. 

Dan  Eank  observed  the  man  was  not 
carrying  his  cane.  And  the  fact  that  he 
had  noted  this  stuck  in  his  memory  al- 
ways— the  most  trivial  thing  of  the  day. 

"  Won't  you  come  in?  "  asked  Prudence, 
leaning  forward  in  her  rocking  chair. 
"What  is  the  matter?" 

They  had  all  risen,  and  were  advancing 
toward  him.  He  moistened  his  lips  nerv- 
ously, for  they  had  not  been  parted.  Then 
he  spoke,  not  looking  about: 

"Cholera!" 

"What?"  cried  Dan  Eank. 

"Cholera!" 

He  swallowed  as  if  with  an  effort.  Then 
he  passed  on.  Dan  overtook  him. 

"  Are  you  sick?  "  he  asked,  peering  into 
the  frightened  face. 

"  No.  Mrs.  Walker — is  dead.  The  chol- 
era is  here." 

Far  back  down  the  street,  they  heard 
a  child  crying — far  down  the  street. 
296 


The  Cholera! 

"  Fm  going  to  see,"  said  Dan  Bank. 

When  he  returned,  Mr.  Love  and  Mr. 
Patterson,  with  their  wives,  had  gone 
home. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Prudence.  "  Let  me 
sing  to  you." 

All  the  world  was  silent  and  motion- 
less— all  but  a  wagon  that  went  muffled 
over  the  dusty  street  to  the  corner  where 
Mrs.  Walker  had  lived.  There  it  paused, 
then  moved  out  Main  Street,  and  turned 
toward  the  cemetery.  And  Prudence,  sit- 
ting beside  her  husband  as  the  hot  day 
burned  to  a  sultry  night,  sang  the  old  songs 
over  and  over — the  old  songs  she  had  sung 
to  the  beating  of  her  shuttles  in  the  loom 
at  home. 

"  You  must  finish  your  canal,"  she  said 
to  him  in  the  morning.  "  You  have  no  time 
to  lose." 

"  I  can't  leave  you." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said  clearly. 
"  I  am  as  safe  here  as  anywhere.    You  go 
to  the  work,  for  it  worries  you." 
297 


The  Outlaws 

"  Ah,  little  woman,"  lie  cried,  taking  her 
two  hands,  and  pressing  them  against  his 
cheeks,  "  there  is  no  work — there  is  noth- 
ing in  all  the  world,  but  just  you." 

"And  I  am  nothing  without  my  hus- 
band. Above  all,  I  want  him  to  finish  this 
canal.  Ah,  how  many  nights  in  the  old 
boat-house  we  have  talked  of  it!  How  it 
was  woven  into  your  heart,  and  made  a 
part  of  your  manhood — till  it  is  a  part  of 
me!  I  can  not  have  you  fail  now!  You 
have  risen  with  each  demand  upon  you, 
from  a  homeless  boy  to  the  greatest  man 
in  the  work — to  the  only  man,  I  think.  Now 
it  must  not  stop.  It  must  not  fail.  I  do 
not  believe  you  have  come  thus  far  to  find 
defeat.  And  I  am  sure  you  will  not  leave 
it  unfinished.  I  am  not  going  to  die.  The 
sickness  will  pass  around  me.  I  will  be 
here,  dear,  when  you  come  back — and  will 
love  you  so — will  love  you  so " 

The  two  hands  were  loosed,  and  they 
clasped  his  neck,  and  they  drew  him  down 
till  his  arms  closed  about  her,  and  the  fair 
298 


The  Cholera! 

head  felt  from  its  rest  on  his  breast  the 
steadfast  beat  of  his  heart. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said.    And  he  did  not 
look  back. 


20  299 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE   BLACKNESS   OF   DARKNESS 

THE  men  at  Section  Seventeen  would 
not  work,  and  he  moved  them  up  to  the 
viaduct.  They  had  been  frightened  and 
idle,  their  tools  flung  and  scattered,  their 
hovels  loud  with  lamentation,  or  stilled 
with  the  stillness  of  that  awful  plague. 

Every  mile  of  the  canal  had  its  settle- 
ment; and  Death  held  carnival,  day  and 
night.  There  was  nothing  to  do  for  them. 
They  were  not  equipped  to  fight  it.  The 
malaria  had  depleted  their  powers,  and 
they  simply  lay  down  and  died. 

Priests  could  not  minister  to  a  tithe 
of  them.  Physicians  could  not  hope  even 
to  see  them. 

Yet  Dan  Eank  met  that  fate,  and 
fought  it. 

He  had  men  busy  on  the  approaches  to 
300 


The  Blackness  of  Darkness 

the  stone  work  at  the  Wea;  and  he  drew 
the  able-bodied  from  every  mile  of  the 
channel,  and  threw  them  on  the  finishing 
task  at  Lafayette. 

He  spurred  them  with  big  wages.  He 
fed  them  royally.  He  labored  with  them, 
doing  more  work  than  five.  He  rode  or 
walked  up  and  down  the  levee,  seeing  the 
stagger  which  meant  collapse,  and  sending 
a  fresh  man  to  the  place  instantly. 

He  was  the  Company — with  all  of  its 
burdens  on  his  shoulders. 

July  slipped  past,  and  the  first  half  of 
August,  and  he  needed  just  a  week  to  fin- 
ish. But  there  was  no  begging  of  Time  for 
a  day. 

His  Irish  had  done  all  they  could.  Odd- 
ly enough,  they  were  not  panic-stricken. 
They  did  not  run.  Indeed,  they  jested 
over  the  matter,  calling  on  the  jigger-boss 
rather  oftener  than  common,  and  frater- 
nally berating  the  freshly  stricken  even 
while  giving  the  brief,  scant  help  that  was 
theirs  to  give.  But  it  was  a  rope  of  sand 
301 


The  Outlaws 

that  bound  up  his  fortunes.  He  could  not 
make  energy  wake  the  response  of  accom- 
plishment. 

He  went  to  his  home  every  night,  of 
course ;  for  they  were  now  just  at  the  edge 
of  the  little  city.  And  he  found  that  home 
as  cheerful  as  in  the  glorious  days.  Not 
a  shadow  troubled  "  Little  Prudy's  "  brow. 
Not  a  cloud  of  gloomy  apprehension,  not  a 
suggestion  of  the  death-arrows  that  had 
fallen  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  of  her ;  not 
a  mention  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
through  which  she  had  walked  beside  some 
neighbor  woman  or  child.  Just  the  com- 
fort and  encouragement,  and  the  interested 
questioning  of  natural  times ;  and  the  sing- 
ing, and  the  love. 

And,  day  by  day,  he  went  out  from  it, 
choking  with  strange  thanksgivings,  and 
picking  up  his  burden  that  he  would  not 
abandon.  And  every  day  he  saw  the  wall 
of  Impossibility  vastly  nearer,  and  saw  no 
gate  that  could  open  to  let  him  through. 

Two  men  who  had  been  with  him  from 
302 


The  Blackness  of  Darkness 

the  first  day  were  shoveling  side  by  side 
when  the  sickness  came  to  them.  The  part- 
ner of  Driscoll,  the  laughing,  unserious 
wag  of  the  whole  work,  stopped  to  shout  a 
gibe  at  them — then  gripped  his  arms  about 
his  body,  and  sat  down.  The  man  who 
drove  the  oxen  paused  in  his  loading, 
smiled  up  at  Dan  Bank  with  the  white, 
drawn  face  of  the  smitten,  called  bravely 
— though  nervously,  and  hoarse :  "  OI'll  be 
goin'  on  in  a  minute,  sorr." 

It  was  the  end  of  his  resources. 

There  were  teams  and  tools,  and  abun- 
dant material.  There  was  money  without 
limit  at  his  command.  But  he  could  do 
nothing  without  men. 

Half-a-dozen,  able-bodied,  could  com- 
plete it.  But  his  hundreds  had  melted 
away  till  the  whole  line  was  deserted. 

It  was  the  blackness  of  darkness  for 
Dan  Bank. 


303 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE   RETURN   OF  JARED 

THE  blow  fell  with  appalling  sudden- 
ness on  the  little  city.  Its  effect  was  stupe- 
fying. Doctor  Borton  took  down  the  slate 
from  his  door.  He  did  not  pretend  to  an- 
swer calls.  He  simply  went  as  far  as  they 
needed  him  in  one  direction,  then  came 
back,  and  started  anew.  He  hummed  a  bit 
of  tune  as  he  worked,  always  cheerful,  al- 
ways comforting — nearly  always  baffled. 

The  second  night  twenty  families 
slipped  out  of  town  by  wagon  for  the  North 
— and  stopped  the  third  to  bury  their  dead. 
Stores  were  deserted.  They  were  not 
locked,  and  no  one  guarded  them — only 
one,  where  black  was  sold.  The  owner  was 
gone.  When  the  clerk  died,  people  went 
in  and  helped  themselves. 

Across  the  canal,  the  low  houses  were 
304 


The  Return  of  Jared 

vacated.  Scarlet  women  and  squalid  fre- 
quenters had  gone. 

The  tavern  had  one  guest — a  dapper, 
graceful,  sailor-seeming  man;  and  he  pro- 
vided for  himself.  In  broad  daylight  he 
went  where  he  would,  entering  doors  of 
home  or  business  house,  carrying  away 
what  he  chose,  aiding  no  one.  And  no  one 
took  notice  of  him.  There  were  things  of 
more  consequence.  A  far  more  perilous 
power  than  he  was  ranging  the  streets,  and 
entering  homes.  A  mighty  Outlaw  was 
suspending  all  rule.  In  the  presence  of 
that  terror,  what  mattered  how  this  man 
did?  No  one  challenged  any  other. 

So  he  ate  in  the  old  hotel,  drank  little, 
and  rested  much — and  heaps  of  cash  and 
costly  goods  accumulated  in  his  room, 
awaiting  time  for  safe  disposal. 

Banging  along  the  levee,  from  one 
groggery  to  another,  was  a  big,  dark  man, 
drinking  without  limit,  smashing  every- 
thing to  the  full  bent  of  a  madman  uncon- 
trolled. On  the  fifth  he  staggered  up 
305 


The  Outlaws 

town,  eating  stale  fruit  at  the  groceries, 
drinking  stagnant  water,  cursing,  and  de- 
fying Death. 

Doctor  Borton  caught  him  in  the  even- 
ing. 

"  Haley,  you're  d-drunk,"  he  said. 

"  Dhey're  all  dhrunk !  Dhey're  all 
afeard!  Dhey're  all  sheared  to  death," 
bawled  the  old  foreman. 

"  You  are  afraid  of  one  thing,  yours-s- 
self." 

"Fhwat's  dhat!" 

"  To  bury  the  d-dead." 

"  OPm  not." 

And  he  was  not.  For  a  month  his  were 
almost  the  only  hands  that  hollowed  the 
graves,  and  committed  the  bodies  to  their 
everlasting  rest. 

Mr.  Love  went  away,  taking  his  wife 
as  far  as  Delphi — burying  her  there  Sun- 
day night. 

Mrs.  Patterson  and  Prudence  did  what 
they  could  for  the  inspector,  but  he  went 
at  daybreak. 

306 


The  Return  of  Jared 

Almost  every  house  held  a  death- 
chamber. 

The  packets  did  not  come.  Freight 
boats  stopped  running,  for  there  were  no 
men  to  handle  the  cargoes.  The  steamers 
came  up  the  river,  paused  in  midstream, 
and  sent  letters  ashore,  refusing  passen- 
gers; then  dropped  down,  swung  around, 
and  fled  with  steam  and  current,  freighted 
with  horrors  and  passing  a  host  of  horrors 
in  every  town. 

From  one  of  the  river  boats  a  thin  man 
stepped  into  a  skiff. 

"  Eow  yourself  ashore,  Jared,"  said  the 
captain.  "  Give  the  letters  to  any  one  that 
will  take  them.  I  will  hold  a  line,  and  pull 
in  the  skiff." 

The  thin  man  stood  on  the  hot  stones 
of  the  shelving  levee,  looking  over  the 
queer  packages. 

"  Here's  a  letter  for  you,"  he  said  pres- 
ently, at  the  door  of  a  silent  residence. 

"  Oh,    my    boy — my    boy    is    dying," 
wailed  a  woman,  suddenly  from  within. 
307 


The  Outlaws 

"  Let  me  see  him,"  chirruped  the  thin 
man,  genially. 

He  went  in  and  lifted  the  lad,  bathed 
him,  put  him  in  cool  sheets,  amused  him 
with  bits  of  story,  with  fragments  of  prom- 
ise impossible  of  fulfilment — promises  of 
summer  joys  and  winter  sports;  and  went 
away  cheerily. 

He  never  met  the  eyes  of  man  nor 
woman.  He  shifted  uneasily  on  his  feet. 
But  he  delivered  all  the  letters.  And  each 
time  when  he  found  the  gruesome  visitor 
he  went  in  and  ministered,  chatting,  prom- 
ising, cooling,  calming  wherever  he  went. 

Day  after  day,  night  after  night,  he 
came  back,  always  remembering  what  he 
had  said  to  man  or  woman  or  child ;  caring 
for  each  without  a  hint  of  hesitation ;  bring- 
ing simple  food  and  cooling  drink — though 
only  God  knows  where  he  got  them.  The 
doctors  encountered  him  a  hundred  times, 
and  blessed  him. 

The  streets  were  littered  with  refuse. 
The  sidewalks  were  cumbered  with  boxes 
308 


The  Return  of  Jared 

and  unmoved  goods.  The  displays  at  the 
fronts  of  stores  fell  into  confusion,  and 
not  even  the  wind  disturbed  them.  The 
clinging  dust  covered  them,  and  told  of 
sudden,  terrified,  unprepared  flight. 

The  thin  man,  speeding  up  Fifth  Street, 
heard  a  call  from  the  big  log  jail,  and 
paused  to  listen.  It  was  a  cry  for  help, 
and  his  ears  had  learned  it.  He  went  up 
the  stairway,  and  into  the  little  entry.  The 
jailer  was  sitting  grimly  before  the  iron 
door,  bent  over  with  the  first  agony  of  his 
illness,  his  pallid  face  still  resolute  through 
the  pain. 

"  I  kept  the  outlaws,"  he  groaned.  "  I 
didn't  run." 

"  Take  a  swallow  of  this,"  said  his  vis- 
itor cheerily.  "  It  will  warm  you." 

"  You  are  Jared  Caruth ! "  cried  the 
jailer.  "  I  must  lock  you  up." 

"  Yes,  you'll  lock  me  up.  That's  right. 
But  lie  down,  and  rest  a  little  now.  I'll  be 
here  whenever  you  want  me." 

"You  won't  leave,  Jared? " 
309 


The  Outlaws 

"  No.  I'll  stay  around.  You  can  lock 
me  up  any  time.  Lay  down,  and  don't 
worry." 

"  I  kept  them — all  ten  of  them,"  moaned 
the  jailer.  "  I  didn't  run." 

Jared  took  the  keys,  and  a  curious  long 
chain,  and  entered  the  cell-room. 

"It's  Jared!"  cried  one  of  the  pris- 
oners. 

"  And  he's  got  the  keys !  " 

"  Yes,  I've  got  the  keys." 

"For  God's  sake,  let  us  out  of  here. 
That  beast  of  a  jailer  keeps  us  locked  up, 
and  there  is  cholera  in  town." 

"  I  know  it,"  cheerfully. 

"  Hurry  up,  Jared.  There  isn't  a  min- 
ute to  lose." 

But  he  was  walking  about,  smelling  the 
place,  and  finding  it  singularly  clean  and 
healthful.  The  odor  of  the  plague — which 
he  well  knew — was  not  even  by  suggestion 
lurking  here.  They  were  healthy  men. 

"  Will  you  unlock  the  doors  ?  " 

It  was  the  leader  of  outlaws. 
310 


The  Return  of  Jared 

"  Not  yet,"  chirruped  the  old  man 
gently. 

"  You  will — or  we'll  take  the  keys  away 
from  you.  Grab  him,  boys !  " 

"  Don't  do  it,"  he  said,  still  persua- 
sively. 

They  caught  the  gleam  of  a  broad- 
bladed  knife  in  his  right  hand — a  broad- 
bladed  knife  of  uncommon  length.  He 
looked  at  no  one,  but  moved  continually. 
And  no  one  was  ever  behind  him.  And 
outlaw  men  are  afraid  of  edged  tools. 
They  would  have  dared  firearms  without 
hesitation ;  but  this  gliding,  crafty  old  spec- 
ter, with  woundings  in  his  hands,  held  them 
in  spite  of  the  death  at  the  door. 

"You  are  all  well?" 

"  Yes,"  petulantly.  "  We  are  all  well 
now ;  but  if  we  don't  get  out  of  town,  we  will 
all  be  down  with  the  cholera.  Open  up, 
Jared." 

He   lifted   the   chain,   with   handcuffs 
forged  at  intervals,  and  brought  himself 
suddenly  before  the  leader. 
311 


The  Outlaws 

"  Left  hand,  please,"  he  said. 

"What?" 

"  I'm  going  to  take  you  out." 

"  Well,  you  don't  need  chain  me.  I'll 
go  out." 

"  Yes — but  you'll  go  chained.  The  left 
hand." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Jared?  " 

Before  an  answer  could  come,  they  had 
penned  the  old  man  in  a  corner.  There 
was  menace.  The  leader  snatched  at  the 
chain.  But  old  Jared  swept  that  glittering 
knife  in  his  face,  flashed  it  before  the  star- 
tled eyes — the  startled  eyes  that  looked  up 
to  see  their  former  companion  transformed. 
For  he  was  stooped,  and  near.  He  moved 
with  incredible  swiftness,  and  the  flat  blade 
slapped  the  lips  of  the  leader. 

"  None  of  that,"  he  commanded.  "  Left 
hand !  I'll  cut  you  into  half-apples  if  you 
don't  mind — and  mind  quick." 

And  they  minded. 


312 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   CANAL   COMPLETED 

DAN  RANK  laid  the  partner  of  Driscoll 
in  the  shade,  and  then  walked  in  the  calm- 
ness of  desperation  to  the  gap  in  his  un- 
finished wall — alone. 

He  had  four  more  days  before  that  fatal 
first  of  September.  Yet  here  was  a  task 
he  could  not  complete.  He  looked  at  the 
idle  teams,  at  the  material  which  mocked 
in  its  abundance,  and  at  the  glimmer  of 
waiting  water  in  the  upper  canal. 

And  he  looked  up  from  that  bad  battle- 
field to  see  a  thin  man,  not  young,  coming 
on  nervous  feet  at  the  side  of  a  file  of  cap- 
tives— a  file  of  men  whose  left  hands  were 
locked  to  a  jingling  chain,  and  who  trod 
the  hot  earth  with  the  vigor  of  health. 

They  were  not  Irish.  They  were  well 
313 


The  Outlaws 

dressed,  though  their  faces  lacked  the  level 
look  of  honest  workers. 

"  The  outlaws !  "  he  shouted.  "  The  out- 
laws— and  Jared !  In  the  name  of  heaven, 
man,  tell  me " 

He  could  not  frame  the  words. 

"  I  did  not  like  to  leave  them  in  jail," 
was  Caruth's  explanation.  He  was  all 
apology  and  self-effacement.  "And  I 
thought  maybe  you  needed  men." 

So  Dan  set  them  to  work.  He  made  it 
clear  to  them  that  loyalty  and  industry  now 
meant  pardon  when  the  canal  was  done; 
and  that  mutiny  or  lagging  spelled  return 
to  jail — where  the  motto  of  Dante's  Infer- 
no blazed  in  the  sunshine  over  the  doors. 
They  had  been  working  men  in  their  time, 
and  they  flung  themselves  with  desperate 
energy  into  the  task. 

And  they  finished — easily. 

He  set  them  free  on  the  last  day  of  the 
month — at   sunset   of  the  last  day;   and 
gave  them  his  boat-house,  with  utensils  and 
stores — and  his  blessing. 
314 


The  Canal  Completed 

That  last  evening  the  sun  went  down  in 
flaming  red,  leaving  a  lurid  pathway  far  up 
the  sky — a  lurid  path  that  held  while  the 
air  grew  chill,  while  the  rain-clouds  came, 
while  the  shower  broke  the  awful  drought 
of  that  black  summer,  and  rumbled  away 
in  the  cloudy  dawn. 

It  was  the  end  of  the  plague. 

And  at  the  very  last  David  Stocking, 
with  a  team  at  the  door,  went  into  the  twi- 
light shadows  of  the  old  tavern,  the  de- 
serted tavern,  and  groped  in  the  deepening 
dark  for  the  heaps  of  plunder  he  had  gath- 
ered against  his  going  away.  And  the 
sickness  seized  him.  He  struggled,  as  they 
all  did  at  the  first  shock.  Then  the  stupor 
came,  and  he  sank  unconscious,  his  arms 
to  the  elbows  in  watches  and  silks  and  coin. 

In  the  noon  of  the  night  he  waked  and 
saw  Haley  at  the  window,  his  shovel  beside 
him,  the  clay  on  his  hands. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  he  gasped, 
for  the  agony  was  on  him. 

"  Ol'm  waitin'  f er  you.    Hurry  up !  " 
21  315 


CHAPTER   XXV 

JARED    ACQUITTED 

THEY  came  back  slowly — the  people; 
but  they  came.  Life  was  resumed — in  som- 
berness  and  sadness  for  a  time,  with  grow- 
ing activity  as  the  days  went  by. 

One  man  went  hurrying  back  with  the 
thought  of  a  stock  abandoned,  and  found 
Jared  Caruth  sitting  on  the  wooden  sill  of 
the  wide  portal,  the  door  behind  him  closed 
and  locked. 

"  I  heard  at  Huntington  you  were  tak- 
ing care  of  our  stores,"  he  said. 

"  Looks  like  rain,"  mused  Jared  cheer- 
fully. He  shuffled  his  feet  as  he  rose,  and 
glanced  at  the  trees,  at  the  sky,  at  the 
shambling  figure  of  a  man  in  laborer's 
clothes — a  man  who  came  with  difficulty 
up  the  street.  "  I  guess  I'll  be  going." 

"I'm  looking  for  you,"  said  a  voice 
316 


Jared  Acquitted 

from  the  deeps  of  the  shambling  figure. 
"  I've  found  you,  at  last." 

"It's  the  sheriff.  It's  Clark  Thomp- 
son," cried  the  merchant  returned.  "  I 
thought  you  died." 

"  I'm  looking  for  Jared,"  said  the  voice 
again.  "I've  been  sick  at  the  camps  in 
Section  Seventeen — and  every  one  left  me. 
Who's  got  my  clothes'? " 

"  That  f awnskin  vest  was  buried  in 
June,"  said  the  merchant  grimly.  "  They 
brought  him  in  from  a  canaler's  cabin — 
and  we  all  thought  it  was  you." 

A  little  group  had  gathered  about  them 
— a  little  group  of  both  men  and  women — 
for  the  city  was  rousing  again. 

"  I  want  Jared,"  persisted  the  sheriff. 

"  He  bathed  my  boy,  and  sang  to  him," 
said  a  woman  standing  by  Jared  Caruth, 
and  remembering  the  days  that  were  dark. 

"  He  brought  me  letters,  and  soothing 
drinks,"  said  a  man  whose  flight  had  been 
stopped  by  the  plague. 

"He  sat  up  with  my  patients,  night 
31T 


The  Outlaws 

after  n-night,"  said  Doctor  Borton — older 
by  twenty  years  for  the  harvest  of  horrors. 

"  Then  we'll  wipe  off  old  scores,"  said 
Clark  Thompson,  gently.  "Jared's  ac- 
quitted!" 

And  there  was  no  thought  of  appeal — 
then,  nor  evermore. 

The  gap  in  the  canal  was  finished.  The 
water  was  let  in,  though  but  a  silent  crowd 
assembled  to  see  the  completion  of  what 
had  been  mighty  in  anticipation,  immeas- 
urable in  results. 

The  water  was  turned  in,  and  Dan  Bank, 
with  the  officers  who  were  left,  and  some  of 
the  State's  officials,  traversed  the  whole 
length  of  it,  and  found  the  work  well  done. 

It  was  when  they  were  coming  back  that 
Mr.  Love  called  Dan  Eank  into  the  cap- 
tain's little  room. 

"  You  have  done  your  work,  Dan,  and 
done  it  right.  The  company  has  paid  your 
salary  to  the  end  of  the  year.  It  is  in  the 
bank  there  to  your  credit.  Now,  they  want 
me  to  give  you  a  thousand  dollars  besides 
318 


Jared   Acquitted 

what  we  promised.  We  realize  you  did  in 
the  awful  summer  months  what  saved  us — 
what  no  other  man  could  have  done.  Now, 
further  than  that,  will  you  take  two  per 
cent,  of  the  cash  we  receive,  or  two  per 
cent,  of  the  land?" 

"  I'll  take  the  land." 

So  they  made  the  transfer,  the  com- 
pany's attorney  trembling  in  apprehension 
lest  this  foolish  young  manager  should 
change  his  mind.  The  money  was  tempt- 
ing. It  was  definite,  of  calculable  weight 
and  measure.  But  Dan  Eank  knew  his  por- 
tion lay  here  in  this  valley  he  and  his  men 
had  helped — the  valley  whose  full,  mag- 
nificent promise  he  had  read  while  the 
stars  lighted  his  tired  feet  to  town — the 
valley  whose  promise  he  lived  to  see  ful- 
filled— 

"  From  the  wilderness  and  this  Lebanon 
even  unto  the  great  river;  and  unto  the 
great  sea  toward  the  going  down  of  the 
sun." 


319 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

CONCLUSION 

THERE  was  an  October  wedding  at 
Judge  Evans's  home — a  wedding  at  which 
Clark  Thompson  and  Jane  were  united, 
and  where  little  Bill  Anderson  presided 
with  great  solemnity,  with  a  profusion  of 
texts.  Solemn  Abe  Rhinehart  was  there, 
and  Seth  Reed,  and  Absalom  Rank — the 
latter  proud  of  his  son  whose  work  and 
whose  worth  were  the  boast  of  the  coun- 
ty, yet  full  of  a  silent  charity  for  those  who 
had  misjudged  him. 

And  Dan  was  there,  with  Little  Pru- 
dence, fairer  than  ever  before;  and  Phil 
Whitesell — who  looked  once  at  the  bride- 
groom, and  confessed  that  the  day  of 
ghosts  had  fled. 

THE  END 

320 


RECENT  FICTION. 


The  Strength  of  the  Weak. 

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The  delightful  outdoor  quality  of  Mr.  Hotchkiss's  novel  forms  a 
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romance.  The  diary  of  a  soldier  of  the  New  Hampshire  Grants  and 
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beginning  of  the  French  and  Indian  wars  provide  a  variety  of  dramatic 
incident. 

A  Fool's  Year. 

By  E.  H.  COOPER.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.00;  paper,  50  cents. 
This  story  of  English  social  and  racing  life  introduces  among  other 
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The  Curious  Courtship  of  Kate  Poins. 

By  Louis  EVAN  SHIPMAN.  Illustrated.  i2mo.  Cloth,$i.5o. 
41  One  of  the  best-written  novels  of  the  year.  It  will  be  widely  read 
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The  Luck  of  the  Vails. 

By  E.  F.  BENSON,  author  of  "Dodo,"  "The  Rubicon," 
"Mammon  &  Co."     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

41 A  romance  of  more  than  usual  charm  and  grace,  and,  from  the 
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From  the  Unsounded  Sea. 

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Simple,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00;  paper,  50  cents. 

"  Once  engaged  in  its  pages,  the  reader  will  not  be  likely  to  leave 
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mystery." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


MR  STOCKTON'S  NEW  NOVEL. 

KATE     BONNET. 

The  Romance  of  a  Pirate's  Daughter.  By  FRANK 
R.  STOCKTON.  Illustrated  by  A.  I.  Keller.  i2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Kate  Bonnet "  is  a  novel  of  love,  incident,  adventure,  and 
humor,  and  it  has  been  called  the  most  delightful  book  that  Mr. 
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Captain  Bonnet  and  the  aggravatingly  loyal  Scotch  Presbyterian 
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handsome  type,  used  in  this  book  for  the  first  time. 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


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